


Joan vs. The State of Liberty

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-19
Updated: 2005-07-07
Packaged: 2018-12-27 15:46:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12084207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: This is #4 in the "Sunshine Files". It's a little different than the other series but not totally about Joan. It carries on from "The Farm".





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

"Father Tom, wonderful sermon as always. I especially enjoyed today’s homily, friendship, tolerance, we all need friends."

"Yes, we do, Mrs. Kinney. I must extend my congratulations. I hear the art show has been highly successful, you must be very proud."

"I’m not sure what you mean, and isn’t pride a sin."

"The art show, the exhibit of the lost Kinney paintings. I hear they're going to make a fortune at the auction. In this case, pride will be helping a lot of needy children. The proceeds will be going to such a worthy cause. Just another example of your son’s generosity to his community. And your daughter, of course, has been supportive too. I’m glad your family is becoming close."

"Father Tom, I don’t wish to be rude but I have no idea what you’re talking about. And as for my son giving to his community, all he’s giving, I’m sure, is some incurable disease."

"Mrs. Kinney, surely you don’t mean that and it’s been in all the local papers; how Brian’s partner discovered the paintings and the show at the Bloom gallery and the sale."

"Newspapers, filthy things, I never read them. Full of smut, I’m surprised at you."

"Joan, Joan, excuse me Father. Joan, I just had to catch you."

"Beryl, good morning. I was just complimenting Father Tom on his sermon today."

"Oh, yes, it was so heartfelt. And so appropriate. I had to thank you or rather would you express my thanks to your son for me."

"My son? Why would you want to thank him?"

"If it wasn’t for him my son would have never had the courage to submit a painting to the art show."

"I’m not following you."

"You know, the art show."

"Father Tom and I have been discussing it."

"Well, before the exhibit premiered, the Bloom Gallery advertised for submissions from local gay artists, the best to be displayed along with the Kinneys. This is so exciting I can hardly tell you."

"Calm down, Beryl, and try."

"Of course, Joan. My son decided to submit a painting and it was chosen. He was then asked to have three pieces ready for the show and two have already been sold!"

"But your son is a doctor, why would he be interested in that sort of thing."

"Joan, I’m surprised at your attitude considering how prominent your son is. Yes, my son is a doctor but he uses art in his practice. He’s a rehabilitation specialist. And he’s always loved art and painting."

"And your son knows Brian?"

"Joan, I don’t know where you’ve been hiding but in THE community, everyone knows Brian. Excuse me again, Father."

"That’s quite all right. I understand."

"I must be going. My son and his partner are coming over and we’re going to the exhibit. It’s closing by the end of the week and I want to see the paintings again. Good to see you Joan, and please say hello to Brian for me. Good day, Father."

"Goodbye."

"Bye. You see, Mrs. Kinney, your son has made a significant contribution to the community."

"You’re mistaken Father. My son hasn’t made any contribution to MY community. And how can you promote their disgusting lifestyle. And how is Brian prominent, as she says?"

"Brian is a very successful businessman and as such he has made several charitable contributions. Why his political influences alone helped to save this city from a corrupt mayor. And I can’t tell you how he came through with his help with the Vic Grassi Home. He may not like being known for these acts of charity but his community is well aware of them. And I see you weren’t paying attention to my sermon after all. A word of advice, Mrs. Kinney. I was fortunate enough to be invited to the opening of the Kinney exhibition. Your son and your daughter were there as well as their families. It saddened me that you weren’t in attendance to share this very important discovery with them. We’ve had many long chats and I know you have very little family left. If you don’t find a way of reconnecting with Brian and Claire, you may find yourself truly all alone. Go in peace, Mrs. Kinney."

********************

"Claire."

"Mother, so nice of you to drop by. What brings you here?"

"Do I need an excuse to see my daughter and grandchildren? Where are they?"

"Sitting in the kitchen, finishing their homework. We’re going to bake some cookies afterwards for dessert. Ah, would you like to stay for dinner? I’m making a pot roast."

"Pot roast? Since when do you know how to make a pot roast?"

"Uh, I had help with the recipe. Are you staying? Brian is coming for dinner."

"No, I don’t think so. Claire, I heard something very disturbing today at church. It seems that there is a rumor going around that you’ve been seen at an art gallery in that disgusting part of town that your brother frequents. I’m sure there’s been a horrible mistake."

"Mother, I was asked to attend an exhibition of paintings that were done by an ancestor of Dad’s. I was very proud to attend. The Kinney family needed to be represented."

"And who is this artist that everyone seems to know about except for me."

"His name was John Aidan Brian Kinney. Daddy was his great, great grandson. He was an artist and he was a prominent landowner in Bridgeton. Now mother, you’ll have to excuse me. The boys should be about done with their homework and there are cookies to bake." 

********************

"Father Tom, here."

"Good evening, Father. Joan Kinney calling."

"Yes, Mrs. Kinney, how may I help you?"

"I’ve been thinking about the art show. I’d like to attend but I have no one to take me. Would you consider escorting me?"

"I’d be honored to. But wouldn’t you prefer going with Brian or Claire?"

"No, Father, I wouldn’t. And I’d like to go when the gallery is quiet. I don’t like crowds."

"Very well, I know the owner and I believe Mr. Bloom wouldn’t mind a private showing; you are related to the artist. I’ll call him and then let you know the arrangements."

"Thank you, Father. You’ve been very helpful. Goodnight, Father."

"Good night, Mrs. Kinney."

 

On the last day of the show Sidney Bloom opened his gallery an hour early so that Father Tom could escort Joan Kinney in to see the paintings done by John Aidan Brian Kinney. Sidney met them at the door.

"Hello, Mrs. Kinney. It's nice to meet you," Sidney said as they entered the gallery.

Joan glanced around nervously wondering what abominations awaited her inside. "Thank you," she said shaking the extended hand. "It … it was good of you to accommodate us."

"I'm sorry you couldn't attend the opening. It was a big success, and the auction of Kinney's paintings is going to bring in a lot of money."

"Really," Joan said coldly. She wasn't about to admit that she hadn't been invited to the opening. In fact, no one had even told her about the show. But what could she expect from her depraved son and her ungrateful daughter?

Sidney ushered them into the Kinney room where all the paintings from the root cellar were shown in their glory. Joan walked around slowly taking it all in. She was slightly surprised by the content of the paintings. There were some of the artist and his family. Many were landscapes showing places that seemed far away from Pittsburgh. A few still lifes were also included. Sidney ended with the portrait of John Aidan Brian Kinney. 

Joan stood in front of the large painting. She had to admit that she could see something of a young Jack in the features of the man in the painting. There was also a definite resemblance to Brian.

"This is a very interesting painting," Sidney began.

Father Tom tried to signal Sidney not to continue, but the man was so intent on telling his tale that he didn't twig to what Father Tom was trying to tell him. 

"We x-rayed all the paintings and this one had a sketch underneath the paint. It was a sketch of Kinney's young lover, Patrick Taylor."

"But I thought you said the artist painted his family in those paintings over there," Joan stated.

"He did, but he also left the States and went to South America and Mexico with his homosexual lover. Here's the x-ray showing the intended painting. Too bad he never painted it."

"I think it's just fine that he never painted it," Joan said haughtily. "He probably realized the error of his ways and decided to paint something more fitting."

"But…" Sidney began unsure how to continue in the face of this woman's disapproval. He wondered why she had come there at all.

"Perhaps you would like to see some of the pieces done by local artists," Father Tom suggested trying to ease the awkward moment.

"Oh no, I don't think so," Joan said cringing at the idea of being exposed to their abominations.

"But Beryl Gardiner will want to know what you thought of her son's work," Father Tom persisted.

"Very well," Joan agreed reluctantly. She hoped she detested the work and could tell Beryl that her son better stick to being a doctor.

"Sidney," a voice said from behind them. 

"Morning, Lindsay, you're in early. Do you know Mrs. Kinney?"

"Yes, I do. I haven't seen you for a while."

"What are you doing here, dear?" Joan asked.

"I work here. I helped put together this show."

"Oh my."

"Um … Sidney, I need to speak to you for a moment," Lindsay said.

"Very well. Perhaps Father Tom can show you the work in question. It's over there." Sidney watched as Father Tom led Joan Kinney away. "She's some piece of work," he muttered mostly to himself.

"That's for sure," Lindsay agreed. "What's she doing here?"

"It's a long story, but she is related to Kinney."

"By marriage."

Sidney nodded. "What did you want to speak to me about?"

"Justin's meeting me here. All of his sketches were purchased and he wondered if we could cut him a check today. He needs to buy some books."

"I'm pleased he's gone back to school. That boy has real talent that needs to be developed. Come in the office and we'll get the check ready for him."

"Thanks, Sidney, he should be here in a few minutes."

As Sidney went to the office with Lindsay, Joan was studying the work of Brendan Gardiner. Or rather she was staring in horrified fascination at the semi-abstract works depicting men in various kinds of embraces. Their content might be blurred but the message was clear.

"This … this is disgusting!" Joan exclaimed. "And Beryl said he had sold two pieces. Who would buy such filth?"

"Perhaps men who have experienced this kind of pleasure," Father Tom said softly. He loved the paintings of gay men locked together.

"How can you say such a thing? They're an abomination." Joan looked about frantically and her eyes landed on some sketches of landscapes that caught her attention. "Why couldn't he paint something like that? This artist really knows how to draw."

"They're very good too," Father Tom admitted. "Every artist expresses himself in his own way."

"Not every artist has to show sinful acts," Joan said haughtily, "as this artist clearly knows." Joan peered at the name above the series of sketches. It seemed vaguely familiar.

Father Tom sighed. He didn't know what else to say to this woman. Her hatred and condemnation of anything gay was impossible to overcome.

They both turned as they heard voices near the door. Joan started as she recognized the face of the boy who had been at her son's apartment the day she delivered the chocolate cake. That was the day she had found out about Brian's homosexuality. He had corrupted this boy.

Father Tom began to usher Joan towards the door. He thought it was way past time to get her out of there. As they approached the door, Justin looked up and smiled at Joan.

"We've met, haven't we?" Joan asked. "At Brian's loft?"

"Yes, Mrs. Kinney, I'm Justin Taylor."

"Oh, of course. That's your artwork over there then?"

"Yes."

"And they have all been sold," Lindsay said proudly. "We have your check in the office."

Justin nodded to Brian's mother and followed Lindsay into the office.

"Strange that you should like artwork by Brian's … friend," Father Tom said trying to keep the smirk off his face.

"What makes you think I like it? I merely said the artist knew how to draw and didn't depict depraved scenes. Liking it is out of the question."

"Of course," Father Tom agreed as they made their way out to the street. How could he have possibly thought she liked something done by a homosexual?

As Joan and Father Tom were leaving the gallery, a familiar woman with a little boy in tow was approaching the door.

"Joan, come to view the famous Kinney paintings?" Debbie asked loudly. Gus, who was visiting his ‘Grandma Debbie’ for the morning was hiding behind Debbie’s coat.

"I’ve seen them," Joan replied in that condescending tone she was infamous for. Spying the boy, Joan had to ask. "And who is this? I didn’t know your son married and had children."

Debbie sputtered as she was trying to think of something plausible to say, realizing that Joan didn't know about Gus. 

All of a sudden Gus, who saw his mommy and Justin through the gallery windows, burst through the door with a loud, "Mommy!" Debbie followed closely with Joan on her heels.

"This child is your son?" Joan asked with a cold glare to Lindsay.

"Yes, Gus is my son," Lindsay answered with pride in her voice and a smile on her lips. 

"Hey, Lambskin, you being good for Debbie?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"And you allow him in the gallery?" Joan’s booming voice echoed in the quiet gallery.

"Of course. He’s visited lots of times. He loves art," Lindsay answered gently.

"I love to draw, just like Mommy and Justin," Gus said proudly.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, exposing this child to such filth. Naked men and women. It’s disgusting. So ungodly!" Joan spat out at Lindsay frightening Gus. He ran into his mother’s arms. Lindsay kissed him and whispered comforting words into his little ear then handed him to Justin who held him tightly and away from Joan.

"Mrs. Kinney," Lindsay started. "I’ll have you know that the human form is God’s greatest creation. And has been celebrated for thousands of years by artists all over the world including myself and Justin. And in one of the most famous churches that ever existed, God is painted in the creation of Adam. A naked Adam. Michelangelo and the Sistine Chapel, Mrs. Kinney, that's how ungodly the human form is!"

Joan Kinney was stunned into silence by the power of Lindsay’s speech. She turned on her heels and stormed out with poor Father Tom trying to keep up.

Justin, Debbie, Gus and Sidney stared at Lindsay who was visibly shaking at her encounter with Joan. Debbie snapped her out of it with a, "You go girl!" And then gave Lindsay a well deserved hug. When the brouhaha was over, a small voice shattered the quiet.

"Mommy, was that mean lady Daddy’s mommy?" All eyes locked on Gus. Lindsay and Justin began to sweat. Debbie started chewing her gum at lightning speed. Sidney said nothing.

Justin, learning that lying usually came back to bite him on the ass, set Gus down then crouched to speak with Gus eye to eye.

"Buddy, yes, that mean lady is your Daddy’s mommy. Gus, you know lying is bad, don’t you?"

"Yes, Justin."

"And I won't ever ask you to lie but that lady was very mean to your Daddy and to your Aunt Claire. It makes Daddy sad to think about that lady or to talk about her. Do you understand?"

Gus thought a moment and nodded with understanding. He had seen his Daddy sad a couple of times and Gus didn’t like it.

"Gus, unless your Daddy says something about Joan, we’re not going to mention her. Is that okay with you?"

All the adults held their breath as Gus processed what Justin told him. They watched his little brow crease like Brian’s. Then in a mighty Kinney voice, "I won't let her hurt my Daddy! Ever!" They all suppressed a laugh as Gus did his best Brian Kinney death glare.

Justin picked up the boy. "We won't either." Lindsay and Debbie nodded in agreement. Just then Brian entered the gallery.

"Hey Sunshine, what the fuck are you doing in here? I’ve been circling the block for hours. Hey, Sonny Boy." Gus squirmed out of Justin’s arms and flew into his father’s to give him a loud sloppy kiss to his cheek. "What’s that for, Gus?"

"Cause I love you, Daddy." 

"Love you too, Sonny Boy. Come on, we have time before Justin goes to class. Let’s go get something to eat. You need a ride to the diner, Deb?"

"Sure," said a very relieved Debbie.

Brian gave Lindsay a kiss and promised to drop Gus off to his play group after they had a late breakfast. 

Out on the street while Brian and company were getting into Justin’s Cherokee, Father Tom had finally caught up with Joan and was able to ferret her into his car. In her fury, she had walked several blocks and in the wrong direction, heading deeper and deeper onto Liberty Avenue. By the time Father Tom got Joan into his car she was beet red. She had never seen so many same sex couples in her entire miserable life. 

After making a number of turns, they were finally heading in the right direction, taking them past the Sidney Bloom gallery once again. Father Tom, paying attention to the road, didn’t see what Joan saw, a tall handsome brunet, with an equally handsome blond holding a small child, and a red headed woman getting into a Cherokee.


	2. Joan vs. The State of Liberty

"Brian, we’re going and you’re getting dressed up."

"Justin, why do we have to get dressed up in these corny costumes and since when have you become so bossy?"

"Brian, we’ve been through this, all of this."

"Humor me."

"Shit. Okay, one last time then get your skinny butt dressed! This is the last night of the show and Sidney will announce the grand total of the auction results. Because it’s two days before Halloween, Emmett wanted this to be themed. So we’re all going in period costumes. Claire, John and Bobby will be there. John and Bobby are coming back here with us and Claire will stay with my mom. Steve and Bill are also coming to accept the check for the farm. Has this sunk into your thick head?"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"Justin?"

"What!?"

"You know they’re all going to think we’re them."

"I know."

"And this doesn’t feel weird to you?"

"It does but ever since I saw those sketches and that painting...Brian, I know Kinney is your ancestor and maybe there’s a remote possibility that I may be related to Patrick but it goes way beyond that. I feel what they feel. I..."

"Say it, Justin"

"I love like they love. I need to know more about them. What they did, how they lived. Do you have any idea what I mean?"

"Yeah, come here, little boy. I do know. And I’ll help if I can."

"Thank you."

"But only if you help me into this ridiculous costume. And why does John get to be Davy Crockett?"

"Uh, cause he had an authentic buckskin suit?"

"And what the hell is Bobby going as? With all that red hair he could be Debbie’s twin."

"You’re not that far off."

"What?"

"Emmett got to Bobby."

"Oh no. He’s not."

"Oh yeah. In drag as John’s companion, a lady companion."

"Ya know something Sunshine? I just may have fun this evening after all. And they’re coming back here after? I’d love to watch John peel all those clothes off of Bobby."

"Hey!"

"Don’t worry, I said watch. I’ll be doing my own peeling off of your clothes, nice and slow."

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh."

"Mmm, can’t wait."

"Hold that thought, let’s get dressed and get this show on the road, Sunshine. Our public awaits!"

\------

Joan sat in her car conveniently parked a few spaces down from the Sidney Bloom Gallery. She had seen the posters of the gala. She could read as well or better than any of the homosexuals who would be attending the fancy dress ball. But no one had invited her. No one had enough consideration for her to issue a simple request for her to appear. This exhibit honored Jack's family, her family. She had lived with the miserable old bastard all those years and she didn't even rate an invitation.

She had waited for Sidney Bloom or that Lindsay woman to ask her, but they had carefully avoided doing that. She had desperately wanted them to ask so that could tell them she wouldn't be caught dead at such an event. She had the words all planned out in her head. Her comments would have been scathing, would have shown them the godlessness of their ways. But they hadn't given her that opportunity.

So here she sat in her car watching all the fags and important people of Pittsburgh waltzing into the exhibit. That was the mayor who just went in. She was sure of it. It should be her meeting the mayor not Claire and Brian. 

She had watched Claire go in earlier dressed like some southern belle in a hooped skirt. She was on the arm of a rather nice looking man. Joan had no idea who this man was, but he seemed very solicitous of her daughter. And they had even brought those two bratty children. Although they didn't seem nearly as out of control as she thought they were. She was going to have to spend more time at Claire's house and find out just what was going on.

That Novotny woman had arrived with her son and two other men. They all looked quite elegant in their suits and she wore a red dress. One of the men looked like a child. Perhaps Michael was interested in children just like her own son was. They were all going to burn in Hell.

There had been plenty of colorful characters. Some looked like riverboat gamblers and some like pioneers. One group that appeared to be women of ill repute had really caught her attention. They looked like they should be in a brothel in the old west. But the strange thing was that one or two of them appeared to be men dressed as women. The whole thing was so depraved.

And then Brian had arrived just before the mayor. He had worn an elegant suit from another time and that blond young man was with him. Joan had had a moment's heart palpitation as she realized how much the two looked like that painting in the exhibit. It had given her chills.

Then Brian had pulled Justin, yes that was his name, into his arms and had kissed him right in the middle of the street for the whole world to see. And nobody had seemed to mind. People had either smiled at them or had merely hurried by. She didn't know what the world was coming to.

Another couple had gotten out of the SUV with Brian. A man who looked an awful lot like her son, but was dressed in buckskin, had arrived with Brian and his young man. Joan looked at the tall, handsome man wondering who he was and why he resembled Brian so closely. Then the man, dressed like Davy Crockett from the old TV show, had helped a young woman with red hair out of the other side of the SUV. She had on a big hooped skirt too, and the man had taken her hand and kissed her in the same way that Brian kissed that boy. Joan had shuddered and wished that that man who so resembled her son could have been her son. He had a girlfriend and would have a normal family, not the travesty of a life that Brian was leading.

The number of people streaming into the gallery was thinning out. Maybe most of the people going to the party had arrived. She debated getting out of the car and going to see what was happening inside. As she had her hand on the door, she saw Beryl Gardiner and her son all dressed up hurrying down the sidewalk to the gallery. They must have had to park far away and now they were late.

Joan took her hand off the door handle. As much as she would like to see what was going on inside, she would not risk Beryl seeing her on the outside looking in. That would be just too humiliating. 

With a sigh Joan started the engine. She would go home and open a bottle of wine and pray for the souls of all the poor deluded people in that gallery. As she pulled out of her parking space she understood why some people took a gun and shot all the people who had wronged them. She had never felt so bitter in all her life.

When Joan got home she was seething. She was a Kinney; she had every right to be there. Joan had put up with Jack’s drunkenness and carousing for years. He had humiliated her with his wanton behavior. Joan was owed this. Joan had so many unanswered questions.

Who was that man who looked so much like Brian? And where did all these paintings come from? And if there was any money to be made, why wasn’t she consulted as to where the money was going? And what brought Claire and Brian together? Joan had to find out.

It was still early. According to the poster, the gala started at eight and would go on until the final auction results were to be announced at ten, then the party would continue to at least midnight. It was only 8:30. If she could find a costume she could sneak in. Then Joan remembered her great grandmother’s wedding dress. It was the only thing she had left from her side of the family. When she married Jack, her family had all but ostracized her.

In her closet, safely stored in a box and wrapped in tissue was the dress. It may have been white or a cream color but it had now aged to a beautiful ecru. The fine silk cloth was still intact, the lace still perfect, with dainty pearl buttons. Joan had beige shoes and she managed to find an old mask, a left over from Halloweens long gone by. The elastic had disintegrated but Joan found some white ribbon that she could attach. In an hour’s time, Joan looked like she stepped out of a Victorian painting. Finding a small purse, Joan took her wallet and keys and went back to the Bloom gallery.

The gala at the gallery was in full swing. Emmett had outdone himself again. Fine wine and spirits were flowing. The canapés were scrumptious. Friends and family of all the artists were having their picture taken by the press who were covering the event. Joan slipped in and accepted a glass of wine from a very tall waitress, well, Joan thought she was a waitress. At that point Joan had no idea who was male or who was female. What she was sure of was that her children, who were sharing a laugh together, had somehow become friends and she had no idea how that had come about.

Brian had no inkling that his mother had made her appearance. If he had he surely would have spoken to her but he didn’t know. Brian mingled with the best of them and knew when to hang back as Justin was photographed for an art rag and interviewed about how he had helped to find the lost Kinneys. Joan Kinney quietly hovered in the background as Justin told his tale about finding the art book and the farm. He mentioned Claire Anderson and John Anderson as being related to Jack but no details. Justin then went into the story of finding a trunk in an attic, the sketches, and the letters that led to the finding of the paintings. Joan absorbed all she could and was beginning to piece together the rest.

While Joan was gathering knowledge, Brian was beginning to feel weary. He had had a long day at Kinnetik, clients to pacify, Gus to pacify and then Justin to pacify, all demanding Brian’s attention. And demanding that he dress up like some long dead artist and schmooze with Pittsburgh’s elite. He again found his way to the end of the gallery where the portrait of Kinney and Patrick was displayed. 

Brian sat on the small bench opposite the painting to gaze and admire it. There was much to admire about the painting and about the men in the painting. Justin joined him. He couldn’t help his excitement about the evening and soon the painting would be coming home with them. Joan hid behind a large sculpture and overheard their conversation.

"Brian? Why are you hiding?"

"I’m not hiding, just needed a little quiet. It’s been a long day. Is it time for the presentation?"

"Not yet, but soon. I love this painting! Don’t you love this painting? Look how bold he painted the flora, the trees, the stream, even the boulder he’s sitting on. And yet see how softly he painted Patrick, the boldness framing Patrick like a fortress around him. Kinney loved him so much, he wanted to protect him."

"Yes he did."

"I can’t wait until we take it home. Where should we hang it?"

"I don’t know but I’m sure you’ll find the perfect place for it."

"Brian, is anything wrong?"

"No, Justin, nothing’s wrong."

"Brian."

"Nothing’s changed."

"I don’t understand, what’s not changed?"

"The world. Since Kinney painted this, nothing’s changed. We still have very few rights, we can’t marry, not that I would get married but it would be nice to have that right. He had to run away to be with the man he loved. You, you almost died. Gus, what if he turns out to be gay. What kind of world will be waiting for him?"

"Oh Brian, so much has changed. We wouldn’t be here having this conversation in this gallery if nothing had changed. And look at all these people. They’re all here bidding on Kinney’s paintings because he was a wonderful artist. Gay or not, his paintings touched something in everyone who sees them. The ones of his family, the landscapes, he painted with passion, with love. And he loved. And Patrick loved him and so did Martha. Things have changed and they will continue to change. And if Gus turns out to be gay, we’ll be there for him, to help him."

"I guess so. How did you get to be so smart?"

"It’s in my genes."

"Mmm, I love what you have in your jeans."

"Watch it Kinney. This isn’t the backroom of Babylon."

"You sure? There are enough fags here."

"Behave."

"Moi?"

"Yes, you. You feel better, Mr. Kinney?"

"You always make me feel better, Mr. Taylor. But a kiss would make me feel even better."

"That I can do and I promise, when we get home, I’ll make you feel even better."

"I’ll hold you to that promise."

"And I’ll hold everything else. Come on, old man. Claire will be speaking; she and Sidney will be presenting the check to Steve and Bill. I don’t want to miss it."

"Still the bossy bottom."

"Yeah, and you so love me."

"Hh-rumph!"

It was approaching ten and the guests of honor were nearing the podium. On the night of the opening, it was Sidney and Brian who took the lead and made most of the speeches. Tonight Claire Anderson wanted to express her gratitude. Sidney commanded the attention of those in the gallery and then turned it over to Claire.

"Thank you, Sidney, and good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you all for joining us tonight. [Applause.] For those of you who may not know who I am, my name is Claire Anderson and the long lost Kinney paintings and sketches were found in my home. And in, of all places, a root cellar! [Chuckles and applause.] Before we get to the good part I must say a deep, heartfelt thank you to the men who made all of this possible; Brian Kinney and Justin Taylor. [Very loud applause.] If it wasn’t for their passion for the truth and their bravery none of this would have ever happened. [Applause.]

"Friends and family, some of you already know my family was a family of two, my son John and myself. That is until Brian and Justin burst in upon us and we became a part of a wonderfully large and diverse family. They brought their passion, their strength and their love. Searching for the truth wasn’t easy for Brian or for us but just see the results. A man has become true to his nature and has found love. Forty years of questions have been answered. Brothers have found each other and have become friends. An estranged sister has been reunited with her brother. A pair of troubled boys have come to learn tolerance and respect for others. [Applause.] And a special little boy got a beautiful treehouse. [Loud whoops and applause!]

"The money raised by the auction of the Kinney paintings will go to a most worthy cause. To what we call, The Farm. The Farm is a place where for 3 months, troubled youth go to learn, to grow, to find the right path to becoming productive members of society. There, with the help and guidance of Steve, Bill and other counselors, children are shown how to make the right decisions and learn the consequences to their actions. The ‘graduates’ have turned out to be doctors, lawyers and even our own town’s police chief. The proceeds of this auction will make the Farm self sufficient and allow it to help children for many years to come.

"Steve, Bill, will you come up here to accept this check? Sidney, what’s the grand total?"

"Claire, I am very proud to hand over this check for 1.8 million dollars, minus my commission of course, to Steve and Bill and to you for The Farm!" [Gasps and an ovation!]

It took several minutes for the thunderous applause to die down. No one imagined that the auction would produce such extraordinary results. Then another major hugfest ensued. By 10:30 the speeches were done and everyone wanted to congratulate the primary players.

Steve, a very practical and smart man, commandeered Ted and Bobby for a few moments in a quiet corner to ask them both for advice. None of them noticed the quiet woman in the lace covered dress standing nearby seemingly admiring a painting.

"Ted, you were very helpful to Claire when she sold off some of the other paintings earlier this year. She made some wise investments. I would like you to consider taking the Farm on as a client. Providing Brian gives his permission; I hear he can be a very demanding employer."

"Steve, I’m honored that you would consider me and I will gladly accept this assignment, uh, with Brian’s blessings, of course."

"Of course. Bobby, I know you have several months yet before you graduate but I have all the confidence in the world in you. I know you and your family. You were one of the few good boys that my son knew. When you pass the bar, will you make the Farm your first client?"

"Steve, I don’t know what to say."

"Bobby, John told me you’ve already received offers from some of the best law firms in the state and many close by in Harrisburg. You’re good for John; I’ve never seen him so happy. Consider it, will you?"

"I will, you know I will."

"Now that’s settled, I can relax. Do you think I can get a beer, never developed a taste for wine." 

Teddy laughed and answered. "I happen to know the caterer intimately; I think we can find you a beer."

"That’s way too much information, Ted," Bobby said, laughing loudly. Steve just smiled, rolled his eyes and shook his head then followed his new accountant and lawyer over to Emmett.

Joan was so shocked at what she heard and witnessed that she was literally frozen to the floor. The red headed woman, wasn’t. And apparently he/she was involved with that John Anderson person who was Brian’s brother. Brian seemed to be feared and respected by that Ted person and by several people in attendance. Joan couldn’t understand how a blaspheming, godless homosexual could have so much power in the world. Brian was living with that blond boy. Claire Anderson must have known Jack. And that book. That damned book! Joan remembered giving that book to Brian after Jack’s funeral. She had hoped it would find its way into a dumpster somewhere but it didn’t and now her whole world was flipping over. All of this made her dizzy and she so wanted another glass of wine. But that Kinney stubbornness had rubbed off on her over the years and Joan knew that she would never have another opportunity like this, ever. She was determined to stick it out to the bitter end.

Joan’s feet began to move and she glided closer to where Claire Anderson, Debbie, Lindsay and another blond woman were talking.

"Jennifer, all of Justin’s paintings have sold," Lindsay boasted.

"I know, I’m so proud of him and so happy he’s back in school," Jennifer crowed.

"I bet Brian’s happy too. He always wanted Justin to finish his education."

"I know, Lindsay. I think Brian’s worse than a mother hen sometimes. He worries about Justin more than I do."

"Don’t let him hear you say that, he’ll be sulking for days."

"Oh Debbie, he’s not that bad," Claire admonished.

"You didn’t have to put up with him when Justin went to LA. Bitch, bitch, bitch, worse than an old woman. Or an old queen." The four women roared with laughter.

Brian, whose radar worked as well as his gaydar, suspected that the four most important women in his life were having a good laugh at his expense. He sauntered over.

"And just what’s so funny?" Brian glared at all of them.

Claire, who was never intimidated by that Kinney glare, spoke up. "We all are enjoying Justin’s good fortune. We’re very proud of him. All of his paintings have sold and he’s back in school where he belongs."

"Kiddo, we know you want him to be the best homosexual he can be."

Brian continued to glare. He knew that none of them would ever lie to him but he also knew that each one of them had a wicked sense of humor. He arched an eyebrow, snarled a little then sighed. He knew when he was outnumbered. And outnumbered by women. Justin came to his rescue or so he thought.

"Mom, are you picking on my partner?"

"No honey, I would never do that. We were just commenting that we’re all very happy that you’ve decided to go back to school and we know Brian’s happy about that too. He worries about you."

"Sunshine, with you at school and doing shifts at the diner, Brian will always know where you are. Then we don’t have to put up with his moaning and groaning about his wayward little blond," Debbie said, unsuccessfully hiding a giggle.

"So this IS ‘pick on Brian Kinney’ night!" Brian snarked. "I need to have a word with Emmett. No more wine for any of you."

"Brian, we’re not picking on you. But you do tend to get a little motherly where Justin is concerned," Claire retorted.

Brian stared back at these women who he thought loved him and at the man he could have sworn would have defended him, not that he needed any defending. Brian looked from Lindsay to Jennifer to Claire and to Debbie. Then he glared at Justin expecting some words of defense from his partner. They all cracked up leaving Brian wondering why he put up with any of them. John, seeing his little brother being outdone by the masses came to his rescue.

"Mother, are you picking on my little brother?"

"No, Jackie, I would never do that. We all agree that Brian can get overly protective of Justin sometimes."

"Oh, well, I do have to agree with you there."

"Et tu, big bro?"

"Just stating the obvious, little bro."

Brian had had enough. The creases in his brow deepened, he sighed his best queenly sigh, and then stomped off.

After a brief chuckle, John made a suggestion. "Justin, I think you better go after him and work some of your magic. Bobby and I are sleeping at the loft tonight and I’m not in the mood for one of Brian’s tirades. God that man can bitch."

Justin ran off to sooth Brian’s ruffled feathers.

"Do you think Justin will be able to calm Brian; he seems awfully upset."

"Don’t worry, Lindsay. I’ve seen what that boy uses to get Brian to do whatever he wants. Believe me, he’ll flash that smile, bat those baby blues, wiggle his rump and Brian will be a goner," John reassured Lindsay.

They all turned and watched as Justin took the long way around the gallery to get to where Brian was sulking. They watched as Justin’s round rump had a little added swish and they noticed that Brian saw it too. The furrows in his brow started to lessen. Justin approached and looked up through his lashes to gaze into the darkening hazel eyes. He gently batted his eyelashes while the little boy grin started to widen. When it stretched into his full Sunshine smile, it was all over for Brian. Brian pulled Justin into a strong hug.

"See, that boy has got Brian wrapped around his little finger," John said.

"Yeah, and if we don’t get them out of here quick, Justin’ll be wrapped around Brian’s dick!" Debbie quipped.

"Oh oh," Claire, Jennifer and Lindsay said in unison.

"John, I think you better take them home and now." Brian’s hug turned into an embrace, a very serious embrace.

"I think you’re right, Mother. I’ll call you tomorrow. Now where is Bobby?" John gave each woman a kiss, grabbed his lover then swept Brian and Justin out of there before the Bloom Gallery got a first hand demonstration of the human form in action.

The ladies laughed and agreed it was time to call it a night. The crowd was starting to thin and Emmett’s crew was starting to do the clean up. It was a wonderfully successful night.

Joan gulped down the last of her wine then quickly slipped out. She was flabbergasted at all she had heard, witnessed and learned. She had to get home.


	3. Joan vs. The State of Liberty

Joan pulled up in front of her daughter's house. She looked at the building wondering what she would find inside. The Claire she used to know didn't seem to be around anymore. Inside there was a new Claire who went out with nice looking men and appeared at galas and wore period costumes and had no time for her mother anymore.

As Joan climbed out of the car she tried to decide on the best method of approaching the whole subject of what was going on with Brian. She didn't want Claire to know that she had been spying on her and her brother at the gala, but she wanted some definite answers.

Claire let her in and she found her two nephews sitting at the kitchen table doing their homework.

"Boys," Joan said.

"Hi Gran," John replied and Peter smiled at her.

Joan was momentarily taken aback. Usually the boys hardly acknowledged her presence, let alone called her Gran. That had stopped several years ago.

"I'm glad to see you two working so diligently," Joan said with a frown. "What has brought about this monumental change?"

"It's not monumental, Mother," Claire replied. "We just have some new arrangements in this family."

"Arrangements?"

"Yes," Claire sighed. She really didn't want to get into all this with her mother. "The boys and I eat dinner together every night. When they come home from school they do their homework while I make dinner. That way I can help them if they have any questions."

"You help them?" Joan snorted.

"Yes, I do. I'm not stupid, in spite of what you might think of me."

"Mom helps us a lot," Peter said feeling the need to defend his mother. His grandmother was always so critical of everyone.

Joan looked at her grandson wondering where the real Peter had got to. Joan decided to get to the point. "I wanted to talk to you about this Kinney exhibit at the Sidney Bloom Gallery."

"What?" Claire reacted. "How did you know about that?"

"Father Tom told me."

"Oh."

"It was great," John said as his mother gave him a withering look.

"Surely you didn't take these boys to see that blasphemous stuff." Joan wanted to play dumb about what she knew and hopefully draw out some more information.

"Um…boys," Claire said slowly. "I think you can finish your homework in your room. Run upstairs while grandma and I talk."

"Are you sure, Mom," John asked. Something sounded wrong with this whole thing.

"I'm sure. We won't be long, and then you can watch some TV."

"Okay," the boys said gathering up their books and heading upstairs.

"Mother, what is it you want?" Claire asked when she thought the boys were out of earshot.

"I want to know why the whole Kinney family gets invited to this art show and nobody even tells me that it's taking place, let alone issuing me an invitation. The last time I looked my last name was still Kinney." Joan drew herself up to her full height and used her coldest and most condemning voice.

"We … um … we didn't think you'd be interested."

"We? As in you and Brian? Since when do you care what I'm interested in? Since when do you decide that for me? Who do you think you are?"

"Mother…"

"Don't mother me! I want to know where these paintings came from and why the money isn't going to the Kinney family."

"How…how do you know where the money is going?"

Joan started. Had she revealed too much? "I know none of it's coming to me. I'm Jack's heir. I should be getting the benefit of this artwork."

"But it was painted by a fag," Claire said weakly hoping to derail her mother.

"I don't care if it was painted by Satan himself, if there is money that I should be receiving, then I want it."

"You always were a selfish old bitch," Claire said before she could stop herself.

"How dare you!!!"

"I dare. Oh, I dare all right. That money has nothing to do with you. Neither Brian nor I are receiving any of it, and you won't either. It's going to a good cause. Leave it alone, Mother."

"I'm just getting started. I want what's mine and I will have it."

"Don't threaten me, Mother."

"I think I've heard enough of your insinuations for one day. It's time I got myself a lawyer."

"A … a lawyer?"

"Yes, a lawyer. And while I'm at it perhaps I should ask him to look into how fit a mother you are for those two boys. You shouldn't have them hanging around a bunch of homosexuals."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. My lawyer will be in touch." Joan drew herself up and stormed out of the house.

Claire stared after her wondering what had just happened. How could her own mother threaten to take her children away from her? What did her mother know about the paintings? And what did she know about who Claire and the boys were associating with? This was getting too weird.

Claire picked up the phone and hit the number she had come to use so often lately. "Brian," she said. "Can you come over? Something bad has happened."

In about an hour Brian and Justin were at Claire’s door. The thought of her mother trying to take legal action was beginning to scare her. The boys were silent, seeing their mother so upset. They didn’t know how to help. They were relieved to see their Uncle Brian and Justin too.

It was John who answered the door.

"Hey, John."

"Hi, Uncle Brian, Justin."

"Hi kid, what’s going on?"

"I’m not sure but Grandma was here a while ago and after she left Mom started to shake and cry. I’m really glad you’re here."

Brian and Justin found Claire sitting on the couch. Peter was sitting next to her and handing her a tissue.

"Oh Brian, I’m so glad you’re here!"

"What happened? What did that bitch say?" Brian demanded. Justin cringed a little and shook his head. Brian took the hint.

"John, Peter, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for but Joan makes me a little nuts."

"Tell me about it," John snarked.

"Look, guys, your mom and I are going to talk about what happened. I’m sure this involves all of you but if your mother wants you to go to your room for a while, respect that. Okay?" The boys nodded.

"Claire, now slowly. Tell me what happened." Claire recounted the encounter with her mother and the remark Joan made just before she left. Claire was certain that Joan was going to try to take the boys away from her. The tears started to stream down her face. John and Peter tried to be brave but the thought of leaving their mother was too scary. They too, started to cry.

Brian sat close to Claire then pulled his sister into a hug. "It’ll be all right. I swear I won't let her take away the boys. I promise. I’ll get the best lawyers. We’re a family and no one is going to break us apart." Then Brian gathered the boys together in his long arms and hugged them with Claire. Justin stood back and smiled at the small miracle that was transpiring. Brian, Claire and the former spawn were about to do battle, together.

Claire was way too upset to think about cooking so Brian suggested the diner. Now that the guys and Claire had gotten over their homophobia the diner seemed like a safe haven. Claire and the boys followed Brian and Justin to Liberty Avenue.

"Hey, Kiddo! Sunshine! The whole family!" Debbie greeted the Kinney clan. "What brings you all over here?"

"Debbie, we’re kinda having a family crisis," Brian said seriously. Debbie squeezed into the booth with the family and they huddled together. Brian explained what Joan was planning.

"Brian, you may not like this but why don’t you consider calling Melanie. I know she’s not your favorite person but she’s a damn good lawyer and she has lots of practice in custody cases. Especially when the family is unusual."

Brian thought a few minutes. His first reaction was to say ‘fuck no’ but Debbie did have a point. Mel was very good at what she did. "I’ll think about it. We’re all hungry Deb, let’s feed these guys and I’ll call Mel in the morning." Debbie took their orders and Justin helped get their drinks. 

After dinner Brian and Justin followed Claire and the boys back home. Brian offered to stay but Claire told him to go home. They all needed a good night's sleep. Maybe they were jumping the gun a bit too early. There was a chance that Joan’s threats were empty but somehow they doubted it.

At the door, they all said goodnight. Claire and the boys gave Brian a hug and he promised to call the next day. No one noticed Joan in her car parked across the street.

Joan watched the hug between her son and daughter and cringed inwardly. Any show of affection in their family had always been anathema. What had brought about this strange transformation, and how could Claire embrace Brian and his perverted lifestyle?

Deep inside Joan knew she longed for Brian to hug her like that, or Claire for that matter. No one had hugged her in a very long time. What had she done to deserve such loneliness and isolation? She had done her best as a mother in the face of Jack's constant disapproval and violent drunken tendencies. She had served the church faithfully all these years. She had counseled her son on his wicked ways. She had stood by Claire and the children when John had accused his uncle of molestation, only to be proved wrong. And there was never a thank you or an appreciative touch in return.

Joan started her car as Brian and his blond boy drove away. She would go home and plan what she was going to do. She pulled out into the street. They were going to pay for cutting her out, for pretending she wasn't part of the Kinney family, for not loving her. 

Joan slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the curb. That was it. They didn't love her. They hated her. After all she had done, they hated her. That realization made her want to vomit. How did children come to hate their mother? She felt a tear slide down her face.

With an angry gesture she wiped it away. She would not let this defeat her. She would go to church and pray for their souls, pray for them to change their wicked ways … and maybe love her. No, she wouldn't pray for that. That should happen without her praying for it.

She would contact a lawyer and get custody of those boys. That way she could keep them safe, keep their souls safe, from the godless lifestyle of her son and now apparently of her daughter. Yes, she had a holy crusade to follow. She could do it. She would put all her energies into saving her grandsons. They were young and that was still possible. Her son and daughter had seemingly become hopeless causes, hopeless causes that needed to be punished. And God would punish them. Of that she had no doubt.

Joan felt her heart stop beating so violently and she pulled out into traffic again. She was tempted to go to the church right then, but something stronger pulled her in another direction. She drove in the darkness following the familiar route. This was what she needed before she did anything else. She turned into the driveway and smiled. 

Inside her house was the new bottle of sherry that she had purchased earlier in the day. That was just what she needed for now. Tomorrow she would set the wheels in motion to make her children sorry for what they had done to her. Yes, that was exactly what she would do.

 

Brian and Claire entered Melanie's office.

"Brian," Melanie said with her usual cold reserve where Brian Kinney was concerned.

"Melanie," Brian grinned trying not to look snarky. "This is my sister Claire."

"Hello, Claire. What can I do for the two of you? Needless to say I'm kind of surprised that you are here … to see me … together."

Brian raised an eyebrow. "Has Lindsay told you anything about the Anderson family and how we're related?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact she has. I wondered where she was disappearing to all those weekends over the summer, so she finally told me."

"Then that will save us a lot of time," Brian replied.

"My mother has threatened to take my children away from me," Claire blurted out.

"What? What does that have to do with your long lost relatives?"

"It's kind of a long story," Brian began. "Ever since we found each other – the Andersons and us," Brian said gesturing between Claire and himself, "we've kept this a secret from good old Joanie. When the show of Kinney's work was held at Lindsay's gallery, Joan found out about it. She has been piecing things together, and she seems to think we're cutting her out and ripping her off."

"And are you?" Melanie asked pointedly.

"What?" Claire asked.

"Cutting her out and ripping her off?"

"I guess you could say that," Brian admitted.

"I think you better get to the legal ramifications of what's been going on," Melanie said. "Spill."

Brian took a deep breath. "Joan gave me an old book of Jack's after the funeral. Apparently he wanted me to have it. In the book was a deed to some property near Harrisburg. That led us, through Justin's natural inquisitiveness, to the Andersons. Since I have got to know them, I respect and … love them." Melanie's eyebrows shot up at Brian's use of that word. Brian tried not to notice and plunged on. "I signed the deed over to Claire Anderson."

"Did you have the legal right to do that?"

"I think so. Joan gave me the book with the deed because Jack wanted me to have it. Doesn't that mean the contents belong to me to do with as I choose?"

"That might be open for interpretation," Melanie said slowly. They were in some murky territory legally.

"Fuck," Brian said. "I was afraid you might say that."

"So what about Joan taking your children away from you?" Melanie asked Claire.

"The paintings in the show at the Bloom Gallery were found on Claire's property," the younger Claire explained. "Joan found out they brought in a lot of money and she thinks Brian and I are cheating her out of her share. She always gets vindictive when things don't go her way, so she's threatening me."

"That she will seek custody of your children?" Melanie asked and Claire nodded.

"On what grounds?"

"That I let them associate with fags."

"Like Brian?"

"He is their uncle, and what difference should that make?" Claire asked.

"None to me. Is that all?"

"She thinks I'm exposing them to many other homosexuals through Brian's friends and family. In her religious world that is sinful and she thinks she can use that to take them away from me."

"I don't think she has much of a leg to stand on where that is concerned," Melanie said and Claire visibly relaxed. "Unless there's something more you haven't told me."

"The boys have been kind of out of control for a few years. You probably know what John did to Brian."

"Yes, I do."

"I think she might try to say that I'm a bad mother and that I can't control them."

"She could try."

"But would that work in her favor?"

"It could."

"Fuck," Claire breathed.

"I think she'll go after the proceeds from the sale of the Kinney paintings too," Brian said. "All the profit went to a charitable institution, but that probably won't make any difference to Joan."

"It might all hinge on whether you had the right to sign that deed over to the Andersons," Melanie said thoughtfully. "Let me look into it and see what I can find. Joan hasn't sent either of you any legal documents yet, has she?"

"Not yet," Brian said.

"Okay, I'll do some research and we'll wait to see if Joan pursues this through legal channels."

"Thanks, Melanie," Claire said. "You won't let her take my kids, will you?"

"I don't think that's very likely, and besides this will probably all blow over once Joan calms down."

"You don't know Joan if you think that's likely to happen," Brian muttered as he ushered Claire out the door.


	4. Joan vs. The State of Liberty

Justin was alone in the loft doing some research on his latest school project. Brian was out with clients or out saving the world from evil mothers or just out. It was this quiet time that Justin liked so he could concentrate. The buzzer to the door broke the silence.

"Who is it?"

"Justin? It’s Sidney Bloom. I have your painting."

"Come on up, top floor!"

"Hmm, how appropriate."

Justin had the loft door open and was bouncing in anticipation. The elevator seemed to take forever to make it up. When it reached his floor, Justin raised the gate.

"Justin, my boy! So good to see you."

"Thank you, and thank you for bringing the painting here. We would have picked it up."

"And pass up the opportunity to see the infamous loft? Not a chance. Where would you like them to put it?"

Just inside the door, two large bear-like men were standing. One had the painting, the other the framed x-ray. Their eyes swept the loft then looked Justin up and down. Sidney’s men had an eye for ‘art’ as well. Justin gave them one of his sweet innocent grins and indicated they could lean the wrapped pictures against the kitchen island.  
Sidney watched the encounter and rolled his eyes. It was obvious that Justin had learned a lot from Brian.

"Out, you two, and wait for me downstairs."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Bloom, and Mr. Taylor, if you ever need anything moved, call us." Justin giggled then got serious when he saw Sidney’s look.

"Um, was there anything else? Would you like a drink or something?"

"No, thank you, Justin. I wanted to show you something. I know you have an innate curiosity about Kinney and his Patrick. While we were conserving the paintings we made another interesting discovery. I discussed it with Ms. Anderson and it was agreed that the public would not be shown what we found. Only the letters that you two found were going to be part of the exhibit. As you saw, there is a market for Americana. The letters were almost as important as the artwork. They are a window into that period of American history. 

"We had to remove each painting from its frame to have them properly examined and cleaned. We also cleaned and conserved the frames and each painting was returned to its own frame. For some reason I started with the portrait of Martha. She was painted with such love, such passion. The pastel colors he used were soft and muted, yet vibrant as if he was explaining how he felt about his wife with just the color alone. I have pictures chronicling the conservation. I put them on a disc for you. I think you’ll enjoy seeing the process."

"Thank you! I am interested. But you said you found something?"

"Yes, yes. As I said, I was drawn to Martha first. When we removed the backing for the frame, papers fluttered to the floor. At first I thought they were more letters and I was right, sort of."

"Sort of?"

"There was a letter and then pages of a journal. We removed the backing from each painting and we found more pages. I had all the pages put in special acid free sleeves and each scanned into the computer." Sidney handed a box to Justin. In the box were the letter and the journal pages all in protective sleeves.

"Here, it’s all in order. I have the letter in there too. I suggest you put the box in a safety deposit box or at least in a fire resistant box. I have everything on this disc for you. I have a copy of the letter too. Read it."

With a shaky hand Justin took the letter from Sidney and read it out loud.

My beloved Martha,  
We have been apart for so many years and yet you will not let me release you from our bonds of marriage. You are a young, beautiful woman; you can remarry and still bear fine sons. I do not understand why you remain attached to me. I have brought only shame to you and even now at this time of uncertainty, you support and assist me still.

I do love you. Please understand that one truth. When our parents arranged our attachment, I loved you the moment I saw you. Sweet, beautiful and frightened child. You will always be that sweet child to me but you are no longer frightened. I believe you are the bravest person I have ever known. And now you take on this task of harboring my paintings and my journal.

Yes, my love, I still keep my journal. 'Twas you who brought this habit to me, always insisting I have a way with the spoken and written word. So I have kept up my writing.   
But now Patrick and I must leave. We can only take what we can carry. We will go back to South America until this war is over. We cannot stay. Many in the village are burning their own homes so that no haven to rebels will be left. I fear our cottage will fall prey to the carnage. And I fear if we would be taken prisoner we would be much abused then killed. I am sending my paintings and my journal to you for safe keeping. I must keep Patrick safe too. But he does so much better here where the air is dry. I fear his sneezing will return once we get back to the jungle, poor lad.  
My dearest wife, I wish I had the power of words to explain what you mean to me and the part that Patrick plays in my life. You are my heart and he is my soul. Please pray for us. 

I will try to send word when we are settled.

Your humble servant,  
John Aidan Brian Kinney

Justin had to sit. The impact of Kinney’s words struck a cord in his heart. He knew Kinney never stopped loving his wife but something made him need Patrick. There were many times when he and Daphne were together when that same pull tugged at him. Justin loved Daphne; they were together since they were babies. If things were different, he knew Daphne and he would have had a life together.

"Justin, are you all right?"

"Yes. Thank you for showing me this."

"Claire knew you wanted to learn more about Kinney and Patrick. She asked me to give you the letter and the journal. You should thank her. Well my boy, I must take my leave. Enjoy the painting and have fun with your new journey."

"My new journey?"

"Into the past, my boy, your journey into the past."

Sidney left with a flurry of his long coat leaving Justin with his Kinney and his thoughts.

 

Joan took a last sip of sherry to fortify herself before she went to the lawyer's. She had an appointment for 2 pm. She didn't want to drink too much but she needed a little liquid courage for what she was about to do. However, she was sure God was on her side. She would be pursuing the saving of the souls of her nephews. She would also be going after what was rightfully hers.

Armed with the papers she thought she might need, she went out to her car. The drive to the lawyer's office didn't take long. She was soon ushered into the office of Seymour Gottlieb who sat patiently listening to the whole story as Joan told it to him. His ears perked up when she talked about the Kinney paintings. He had read about the sum raised in the newspaper. This woman seemed to think those paintings belonged to her. She might prove to be a very lucrative client.

When Joan finally stopped talking, Seymour leaned back in his chair and drew in a long breath. "That's a very interesting story, Mrs. Kinney," he said.

"Do you think you can help me?" Joan asked.

"What do you foresee happening if you pursue legal action?"

"What … what do you mean?"

"What would be the best outcome that you could foresee?"

"I would get custody of my grandsons and I would receive the proceeds from all those paintings," Joan said bluntly.

Seymour smiled. "That is exactly what I hoped you would say, and I think you have a very good chance of having that happen. You are the only heir of Jack Kinney?"

"Of course I am. I got the house and Jack's pension and a bunch of his debts. I'm the heir."

"Do you have a copy of his will?"

Joan handed one to him proud that she had thought far enough ahead to bring this paperwork with her. Seymour gave it a cursory glance.

"Yes," he said, "you are the primary beneficiary. That's good. I'll look at this more fully later on, but I think we have a good case here."

Joan smiled. "I'm so pleased to hear you say that."

"Leave the will with me and I'll start some paperwork to set things in motion. Make an appointment with my secretary on the way out. I'll need you to sign some papers in, say, three days."

"Thank you, Mr. Gottlieb. I'll do that."

Joan shook the lawyer's hand. She didn't particularly like lawyers and this one was Jewish, but one of her friends at church had told her he was the best at getting big settlements for his clients. He seemed to know hat he was doing.

As she made her way to her car, Joan couldn't help gloating. Her ungrateful children were going to pay big time. They had thought they were so high and mighty at that gallery, giving away her money to strangers. Now they would be duly humiliated when they had to get it all back and turn it over to her. And then she would take Claire's children and raise them properly as God fearing young men. She would straighten up the colossal mess that Jack Kinney had made of all their lives.

*****************

"Hey."

"Hey. Have you decided where we’re going to hang these?"

"I’m not sure. Do you have a suggestion?"

"Yeah, I do. I think it’s time to give the naked man a rest."

"Brian, you love your naked man."

"It’s time for a change. I think Kinney and Patrick will look perfect there. The naked man can go in the closet for a while. And I have an idea where to put Patrick but I definitely need your help with that."

"My help? You want me to hold the ladder while you bang in a nail?"

"Smart ass, and no. I don’t want you to hold the ladder. Besides these walls are brick. There are special clips to put on the bricks to hold things up. The only thing I’m banging around here is you. I want to put Patrick in the alcove but frankly, he’s more naked than the naked man. What I want you to do is paint him. Finish the study. Then on the other side I want a painting of you. Maybe in a similar pose as Patrick. You two could pass for brothers."

"Brian, I can do Patrick’s portrait but I’m not sure I could do myself."

"It’ll be easy. From what I can see you and Patrick are almost built the same. Use him as a model then make the painting you."

"Are we really that similar?"

"Yeah, you are, except for one very nice difference, uh two very nice differences."

"And what might they be?"

"Fishing again, Sunshine?"

"Um, yes."

"At least you’re honest. From what I can see, Patrick has very nice attributes but you have him beat by a couple of inches. And you definitely beat him in the ass department."

"Why Mr. Kinney, you say the sweetest things."

"So will you give it a try?"

"Yes, I will. Bri, you planning on going out tonight?"

"I was thinking about it, why?"

"I want to work on the journal."

"Justin, you’ve solved the mystery. You found the Andersons, the farm and the paintings. Can’t you give this a rest now?"

"No, I can’t. The journal dates from when Kinney first met Patrick and keeps going until they had to leave before the war. Kinney didn’t write in it every day but when he did he was so expressive. Now I know why you went into advertising."

"Is the journal only on the disc?"

"No, I printed some of it. You want to read it?"

"Let’s sit on the futon cushions. I’ll get us some wine. You read it. Tell me how they met."

"Okay. He wrote..."

‘August 1825'  
Martha and I have been married for two years and I have been made master of her parent’s estate. She became with child almost immediately after our nuptials but she was unfortunate to lose the baby. A harsh winter took its toll on her and on the land. Happily, our son was born the next year. Healthy, strong and named for an uncle of mine, a name I proudly bear as well. Brian. If he survives and I feel that he will, he will become master of this manse and its lands.  
This uncle of whom I have mentioned has sent to us a young man. He is related to him by way of his wife. This young man, Patrick, is fair of hair and face, only five years my junior but looking as of a babe. He comes from a good family and will have a fortune of his own when he reaches his majority. He has been sent to us because he is said to have a flair for painting. My habits have become popular in our society and Patrick wishes to learn. We have spent many happy hours by the stream drawing together and painting. But I fear I must send him back to my uncle. I feel something unnatural with his close proximity, something I dare not speak of nor put to paper. And I fear he feels it too but is not bothered by it. I must end this.

‘August 1825'  
It has been a fortnight since I took up my pen and I have sinned. I have sinned against the sweet innocent girl I took as my bride and it must never happen again. I was about to write to my uncle and beg that Patrick be sent for, but the boy sensed my despair and begged me to let him stay. I am so torn. I love my wife but I have such feelings toward this boy. I do not know the proper course to take. I pray each night that some sign will show me the right way but each day there is none.  
We went to the stream. The air has been too hot, so thick with humidity. We stripped off our clothes in a way like children as God intended. Innocent children. When cooled we swam to shore to allow the sun to dry us. Patrick mistook his footing and twisted his ankle. I lifted him; he weighs as if he were a child, and deposited him on the warm grass. He bravely bore the pain but I could not help but to caress the injured foot in an effort to sooth him. He moaned at my touch and I thought it was from the pain but his manhood told me otherwise.  
Those eyes that reflected the blue of the sky, that’s all I saw, all I could see, all I do see. Full lips like ripe berries and his scent. The scent of a child and the musk of a man. I am lost.   
Our embrace lasted minutes, our coupling, hours. I am truly lost, in him and found, in him.

"Justin, Justin. Here, blow your nose. Your allergies are acting up again."

"Sorry. Brian, Patrick was his first. They fell in love at the stream. They made love in the same place we did. Shit, I’m sounding like a fucking lesbian."

"Yeah, you are but I don’t blame you. That’s one hell of a first encounter. Hours, huh. My first time, it was all over in two minutes. Took me years to attain my staying powers."

"Brian!"

"Got your nose to stop running."

"Fuck you."

"Not tonight but how about I fuck you. Come here. That was beautiful. I mean it. Remember how scared you were and you were surrounded by hundreds of gay men. You weren’t alone, you knew where to come. Think about them. Having these feelings, not knowing what to do with them, maybe not knowing what to do or how to do it. Going on instinct alone and Kinney was born and bred to be married and head of his house. That was brave of them. Fuck, I was supposed to make you feel better not bring on more allergies. Here, blow."

"Brian?"

"Mmm."

"Make love to me."

Brian moved aside the pages that Justin was reading. Quietly and quickly he stripped Justin of his clothes and laid him down on the soft cushions. Brian heard the soft sniffling noises. Justin’s sentimental heart was pounding in his chest. Brian deeply kissed his boy then worked his way down to Justin’s semi flaccid cock. Brian swallowed the organ down to its root, taking advantage of the softness. Within moments Justin was very hard and Brian finished him off. As Justin recovered, Brian undressed, sheathed and lubed his cock. He quickly prepared Justin and pushed his way in.

"Oh god Brian!" Justin moaned out as Brian began to withdraw then push back in. Justin arched up and locked his legs around Brian’s waist. Brian knew what Justin needed and gave it to him without reservation. Justin was about to cum again. Brian leaned up and fisted Justin’s dick until he came. Then Brian threw Justin’s legs over his shoulders and pounded till he too came.

"Thank you," Justin whispered into Brian’s neck then promptly fell asleep.

Brian let his emotionally and physically spent partner sleep for a while before he got up to dispose of his condom and get the throw blanket. Before lying down, Brian made sure the loft was locked up, the alarm set and the alarm clock turned on. He picked up the pages and re-read Kinney's description of Patrick.

"Those eyes that reflected the blue of the sky, that’s all I saw, all I could see, all I do see. Full lips like ripe berries and his scent. The scent of a child and the musk of a man. I am lost."

"I know exactly how you feel." Taking the blanket, Brian covered them both, snuggling close to share the warmth. "Yeah, I so love you." Brian murmured into the sleeping blond’s hair.


	5. Joan vs. The State of Liberty

"Brian, you've got to help me!" Claire practically screamed over the phone.

"Fuck, Claire, you don't have to deafen me."

"She has petitioned the courts for custody of Peter and John. I just got the papers. She's going to take my kids, the evil bitch!"

"They're just papers, Claire. Calm down and think for a minute. She sent the papers, but that doesn't mean she's going to win. When you tell a court about her drinking and how she … treated us, they won't give her the time of day, let alone your holy terrors."

"They're not terrors. They have been doing so good lately. We're starting to feel like a family and then she has to go and ruin everything."

Brian sighed. "She hasn't ruined anything … yet. Get a grip and I'll make an appointment with Melanie. She should read the papers and see just how they're going to go after you. I'll call you back when I have an appointment."

"Thanks, Brian."

Brian could hear the relief in her voice. "Stay strong. Joan is not going to win this one."  
_____

Later that afternoon Brian met his sister in front of Melanie's office. Claire looked pale and shaken, but she smiled as Brian walked up. He didn't say anything to her as he ushered her into the office. 

"Is something wrong?" Claire whispered to him as Melanie retrieved the right file from the pile on her desk. Melanie looked up and noticed Brian's clenched jaw. She waited wondering what was to come.

"Yeah, something's fucking wrong?" Brian spat out. "That old battleaxe had me served just after I called Melanie. She claims ownership of the Kinney's, all of them, and of anything else that was property of Jack Kinney. She obviously doesn't know all about the farm and John and Claire or she would have named them."

"Fuck!" Claire reacted. "She can't do that, can she?"

Brian and Claire both looked expectantly at Melanie waiting for her to tell them that they had nothing to worry about.

"I'm afraid I can't answer that yet," Melanie said carefully. "I don't have all the information."

"What do you need to know?"

"Do you have a copy of your father's will?"

Both Brian and Claire shook their heads. "I never wanted anything from the old bastard," Brian said. "Paying off his debts was enough for me."

"And you?" Melanie asked when Claire didn't say anything. 

"I … I did get a bequest from daddy," Claire said slowly. "He left me some stupid painting that he always kept in his den."

Brian's eyebrows shot up. "But you never got it, did you?" Claire shook her head. "Didn't Joan offer it to you?"

"She told me daddy had left it to me, but I didn't want the dirty old thing. I just told her I wanted daddy back. She kept the painting as far as I know."

"You never saw the actual will, or never took part in the reading of it?" Melanie clarified.

"Mom said I could come with her to the lawyer's office, but I knew daddy didn't have any money to leave me and at that time that was all I wanted. Money was what I needed."

Brian squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. He knew where that painting was, and now that he thought about it he wondered why Joan had never mentioned it or asked either of them where it had gone. Then again, she had barely spoken to either of them in months.

"The will had to be probated," Melanie said. "So I can get a copy. Maybe that will tell us where we stand. As far as the boys go, I think we should have Child Services come to your home and do an assessment. They would also want to visit Joan and chat with her. You wouldn't object to that, Claire, would you?"

"A few months ago I would have been scared out of my mind if someone had said they were going to do that, but not anymore." Claire held her head up proudly.

"What's changed?" Melanie asked.

"A lot."

"Could you be more specific?"

"The boys and me, we're going for counseling and things are so much better. We don't fight and we eat meals together and they actually talk to me."

Melanie smiled. "Then I don't think you'll have anything to worry about. I'll set up an appointment. Oh, and if I were you, I'd tell the boys what's going on. Whoever comes for the visit will want to talk to them. They should know what's happening." Claire nodded. "That's all I can do until I see the will."

"Thanks, Melanie," Brian said. He stood and waited impatiently for Claire to get ready to leave. He had some thinking to do.

 

Joan sat in her kitchen sipping her sherry. She had just picked up a new bottle on her way home from the lawyer's. He had sent out all the papers and everything was now in motion. Joan smiled as she sipped. Soon she would have everything and her children would have nothing. Good things came to those who waited, and she had waited far too long.

She looked around the kitchen. It was immaculate like all of her house. She had tidied Claire's old room and bought some new bedding for Brian's. The boys could each have their own room, and the school was just down the street. She knew the social worker would pay her a visit anytime over the next few days. The lawyer had told her to expect that. She was ready. 

She poured herself another glass of sherry. She'd have to be careful with the sherry. She didn't want the smell of liquor on her breath when this person arrived. But right now she could celebrate. The lawyer told her she had a good chance of getting everything she wanted. And she would get it.

Suddenly Joan had a fleeting thought of Claire without her boys. She would be upset. But that wasn't Joan's problem. Those boys deserved a God fearing home, not the emotional rollercoaster ride that was always happening at Claire's. Joan would have to tell the worker that Claire's boys lied and stole and used foul language. They never went to church. They were totally out of control. Once she got them, she would see that they had structure and discipline and rules.

Joan debated getting up and making some dinner, but she was quite content with another glass of sherry. She poured it and looked at the liquid in the glass. As she did, the phone rang. A little unsteady on her feet Joan made her way to answer it.

"Hello," Joan said.

"Gran," a little voice said.

"John, is that you?"

"Why are you doing this, Gran?"

"Doing what?"

"Trying to take us away from Mom."

"I'm trying to ensure that you have a decent life," Joan snapped back at him. How dare he question what she was doing?

"Peter and I are fine here, Gran. We don't want to go with you."

"I don't care what you want. I know what's best. Put your mother on the phone."

"She … she's in her room crying."

"I see," Joan said and she couldn't help but enjoy her daughter's pain. Then she caught herself. She should be more charitable. "Tell your mother that I'm doing what's best for us all." Joan set the phone back on the base. Her self-satisfied smile was luminous if anyone had been there to see it.

John set down the phone and wiped away a tear. He had thought maybe he could reason with his grandmother but he should have known better. He didn't know what else he could do. He walked slowly up the stairs to his room.

 

Brian pumped into Justin's ass, both of them drenched in sweat.

"Fuck!" Brian yelled as his orgasm ripped through him. He rolled away and flung the used condom in the direction of the wastebasket.

"What the fuck was that?" Justin asked.

Brian glanced over at his partner. The look on Justin's face told him that everything was not all right. "Did I hurt you?" Brian asked with a frown.

"Not exactly," Justin replied, "but it's been a long time since you used me for mindless sex."

"What?"

"You heard me. Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Brian clenched his jaw. He hadn't wanted to tell Justin, because he knew the lad would think it was all his fault.

"You might as well tell me," Justin said staring into Brian's eyes until the man looked away. "I'll find out eventually.

Brian heaved a sigh. "I got served with papers today."

"Papers?"

"From Joan. She seems to think she's been bilked out of her inheritance. She wants all the Kinney paintings or the money from them and anything else that Jack may have left. She claims to be the sole beneficiary."

"But … that could mean the farm and Claire's house and everything," Justin said his eyes getting wide.

"Thank God, she doesn't know about John or Claire, at least not yet."

"And the Kinney's are sold."

"She could demand the money. I might have to come up with it or else the farm will have to give it back."

"Shit!"

"My sentiments exactly."

"How can she be so mean?"

Brian raised an eyebrow like that went without saying. "You know the Kinney painting from Jack's den?"

"Oh fuck, we stole it," Justin said looking pale.

"That's the one thing we don't have to worry about. Claire says Jack left it to her in his will."

Justin breathed a sigh of relief. "Doesn't she want it?"

"I don't think so," Brian replied as he reached for the ringing phone beside the bed. "What?" he barked into the receiver.

"Uncle Brian?"

"John, is that you?"

"Yes."

"What's wrong?"

"I … I just wanted to say that … that I'm sorry for accusing you, you know, of molesting me. I never said I was sorry for doing that."

Brian could hear the tears in John's voice. "It's all right. We don't have to talk about it. Did your mother tell you what's going on?"

"Yeah, can you stop her, Uncle Brian? I don't want to live with her."

"And you won't if I have any say in it," Brian promised. He wouldn't commit his worst enemy to live with Joan Kinney, let alone two young boys.

"Thanks, Uncle Brian. I'm sorry to bother you, but everybody's crying and I didn't know what to do."

"Do you want me to come over there?"

"No … no, it's okay. I just wanted to know that you were on our side."

"I am and I always will be."

"Thanks."

Brian waited until the line went dead. He set the phone down and turned to look at Justin. 

"Need some more mindless sex?" Justin asked rubbing Brian's arm.

"No, I just need to hold onto you."

"You got it," Justin said sliding into Brian's arms and holding on tight.

Brian fell into a fitful sleep. Justin did his best to soothe him but he could feel the tension emanating from the man even in his sleep. At some point Justin drifted off but was awakened by Brian’s lips around his cock. It wasn’t as violently mindless as before and Brian made sure Justin was satisfied but there was no love involved, just a raw need on Brian’s part to lose himself in the act. 

When it was over, Brian was remorseful and contrite. He asked for forgiveness without ever saying the words. And began to push Justin away.

"Justin, maybe you should stay at Daph’s for a while or at your Mom’s."

"Why the fuck would I do that?"

"You just started back at school. You don’t need any of this shit. If this gets ugly it may hit the papers. Especially if the Farm is at risk of losing all that money. Oh hell, what if Claire and John get served with papers. This is all my fault."

"Brian Kinney, do not, I repeat do not start that 'it’s all my fault' shit. It’s not your fault! None of it is your fault. The only thing you’re guilty of is loving your sister and her children. You took a chance of bringing them all to the farm. And it fucking worked. So cut the shit and roll over."

"What?"

"You heard me. Roll the fuck over. It’s my turn for some mindless sex and you owe me."  
Brian stared at Justin in shock. He couldn’t believe that Justin was really going to use him that way, use his ass that way. He almost told Justin to get the fuck out until Brian took a good look in Justin’s eyes. The blue eyes that reflected the sky and reflected Brian’s heart.

"Justin..."

"Shh, it’s all right. Everything will be all right. We have a good lawyer; we haven’t done anything wrong. You just need to feel. Joan’s cold bitterness is trying to take away all you’ve learned, all you’ve allowed yourself to feel. Let me make it warm again, feel me, feel us."

Justin pushed just a little at Brian’s shoulder and Brian rolled over. Justin made Brian feel. This time they both fell asleep feeling sated, warm and loved.

********************

"Claire, it’s me, Justin."

"Hello Justin. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"This is far from pleasure..." Justin told Claire what was happening and what Joan was planning. Needless to say Claire was shocked, surprised and a little nervous at the prospect of her life being scrutinized, again. She had been through this before as a young woman, pregnant, unwed and living in a small town. She had no intention of going though it all again.

"Justin, I agree with Brian and Claire. They must put up a fight. The boys need to be with their mother. Claire has learned to be a good mother and the court will see that. As for the Farm, I’ll have a meeting with John, Bobby, Steve and Bill. We don’t have a lawyer on retainer, not yet, not until Bobby graduates and passes the bar. But I’m sure he may have a suggestion. Don’t worry, Justin, we won't let that woman tear this family apart. Thank you for calling me. I’m sure this wasn’t easy for you. You give Brian and Claire my love."

"Okay, bye Claire."

"Goodbye, sweetheart."

"What did she say?"

"Shit, Brian. You scared the life out of me. I thought you were taking a shower."

"I was and I finished. Now what did Claire say?"

"Basically what we’ve all said. We should fight back and she’ll have a meeting with John and the rest of them to make plans just in case. Claire doesn’t think Joan has a chance of getting the boys. Not after all they’ve been through but she’s worried about the farm."

"I wish I knew what to do about that. I don’t even know where to start. We do have the letters that Patience wrote to Jack saying that she hoped that Jack and Claire would find a way of living together on the farm. I mean it does prove that Joan wasn’t in the equation."

"Maybe we should turn the letters over to Mel."

"I’ll head over to the bank later and get them. Don’t you have a class today?"

"Huh? No, I got a call. The professor had some sort of family emergency. I have the syllabus and I’m ahead in my assignments. I think I’ll stay here and read some more of the journal."

"Okay, I have a couple of clients to see today but I’ll try to come home early. Try not to spend the whole day on the computer."

"I won't."

Brian gave Justin a kiss then walked toward the door. He looked over his shoulder at Justin. Brian knew the boy was going to be in the same position when he got home later.  
Justin stuck in the disc with the Kinney journal and began to read.

‘January 1826'  
A girl, a healthy baby girl. She will be named for my beloved wife.  
Patrick and I have tried to remain apart, remain as mentor and student but our passion for each other grows with each passing day. It is difficult not to give myself over to him. He is so loving, so responsive in my arms. How odd it is to love a man and to love a woman. My sweet wife has never refused me but Patrick excites me in ways I can not explain. Making a comparison is unworthy of me and of them. This will not do.

‘March 1826'  
Martha suspects that something is amiss. The birth of our daughter was not an easy one. Martha has yet to recover and it would be cruel of me to demand my marital rights. She suspects I seek affection from one of the maids. It would be a scandal if she learnt the truth.  
I have begun preparations to ensure that my beloved Martha and our children will be protected in the event that I must leave our home. I do not know why I feel I must do this but I feel I must.

‘June 1828'  
We have been found out. My sweet Patrick has left me, left our home, left the country. I am a fool. Death would be a happy release.

‘July 1828'  
My preparations have been completed. My wife and children will not suffer long of me. Patrick awaits me in South America. He has come into his own fortune and is no longer dependent on the kindness of others.  
I have signed all the papers. Martha shall keep charge of the house until our son reaches manhood. The house and all its lands will then be passed on to him and to each first born male child in my line thereafter. My will has been registered and I keep a copy in a safe place known only to myself and to Martha. When the time comes, she will know what to do.

"Fuck!"

"What’s wrong?"

"Shit! When did you get home?"

"A few minutes ago. Did you move out of that chair at all today?"

"Yes, I moved out of the chair."

"Oh yeah, so what did you do?"

"I went to the bathroom and I made a sandwich."

"Oh yeah, you went real far. So what’s got your knickers in a twist this time?"

"They were found out. And Patrick left the country."

"That’s the shits."

"Yeah, but Kinney wrote something interesting."

"Enlighten me."

"He wrote something about a hidden will and that the farm and the land can only be passed down to male heirs. First born male heirs."

"If that’s true then Joan wouldn’t be able to take control of the farm or have any rights to anything. And if you think about it, neither did I. I’m not Jack’s first born male heir, John is. If the will didn’t specify that the male heir had to be legitimate then John had the right to it all along. If it does say legitimate then I’m it and Joan still can’t get her mitts on it. Justin, you did it again."

"But don’t we have to find Kinney’s will?"

"Maybe it’s registered in Harrisburg. I’ll call Melanie in the morning and tell her about it. But first I’ll call out for dinner while you print out more of the journal. I think with two sets of eyes maybe we can figure out where Kinney hid his will."


	6. Joan vs. The State of Liberty

"Yes, yes, I'll come by tomorrow," Joan said as she hung up the phone.

She went to the kitchen cupboard where she kept the wine. This was cause for celebration and she knew just what she needed to make the celebration complete. She uncorked the bottle and poured herself a full glass of the red liquid. She took a big mouthful of the wine and savored the taste and the little jolt it gave to her system as she swallowed it.

She sat down at the kitchen table and took another drink. She should go to church and light a candle for good old Jack. His will was finally going to provide her with all the things she had been deprived of all her life. The money from the paintings would give her security. She wouldn't have to worry about every nickel and dime that she spent. She wouldn't have to ask Brian if she found herself a little short at the end of the month. No more need to be beholding to anyone, especially her kids. She could make a hefty donation to the church. Everyone would be so impressed. It was about time she got some of the respect she deserved. She would be able to go on some of the trips organized by the church, the ones that were always just a bit out of her price range. Maybe she could go to the Holy Land. That would be nice. She would be able to provide her grandsons with all the things they would need once she got custody of them. But she wouldn't spoil them. Children should not be spoiled.

With a frown she thought about her own two ungrateful children. They should have turned out better. She had done her best, but Jack was always such a bad influence on the whole family. He had made it so hard for her. Now she would be able to make all the decisions herself. Things would turn out better.

She refilled her glass and glanced around the kitchen. Everything was in its place just as it should be. Maybe she should remodel the kitchen once she got her money. There were so many possibilities opening up to her. She took another sip of the wine wondering what else she might like to do with her newfound riches. 

She really didn't need much. She had learned to live very frugally. But it would be nice never to have to worry again, or have to debase herself by asking Brian for money. She wondered how Brian had become so successful. He certainly didn't take after Jack in that respect. It must come from her side of the family. But his homosexuality, where on earth did that come from? That artist, Kinney, had been gay. That must be the source of the defective gene. Joan chuckled to herself. That bastard Jack would roll over in his grave if he knew that his most illustrious ancestor was homosexual. She wished he were here so she could tell him. She would relish every moment of it.

But then maybe he already knew. He knew about Brian long before she did and he never said anything to her. Nobody ever told her anything. Just like Brian and Claire didn't tell her about that art show. She always had to find things out herself. And she did. She would never need to depend on them for anything after she got her money. They would have to ask her permission for things; they'd have to ask her for money if they needed it. And she would enjoy every second as she turned them down, telling them that they should run their lives better and handle their finances more effectively. She wouldn't pay for their depravity and foolish mistakes.

Joan smiled to herself as she sipped her wine. Yes, things were looking up, definitely looking up.

 

Joan put on her coat and smoothed the front. She always wanted to be sure she had it buttoned correctly. She wouldn't be made fun of by … anybody. She glanced in the hall mirror and patted her hair. She looked fine. A check of her watch and she went out the door. She didn't want to be too early but she would be punctual.

Just before ten she pulled into a parking spot on Liberty Avenue. She looked up and down the street and didn't see too many strange beings. She was a little apprehensive about being here. She knew the reputation of this street. But her son would feel right at home. She wished they could have met somewhere more … appropriate, but it had been here or not at all.

Slowly she walked along the street. A pair of men with their arms around each other almost bumped into her and she backed away in disgust. These godless creatures wouldn't touch her.

Finally she reached her objective and pushed open the door. She saw the redhead immediately, sitting in a back booth. 

Debbie Novotny looked up as the bell jangled and gave a wave. She didn't look too pleased to see Joan, and she wasn't. She couldn't imagine what Joan wanted to talk to her about. The last time they had spoken had been in the church when Debbie had told Joan to call Brian about his cancer.

"Hello, Debbie. Thank you for meeting with me," Joan said as she slid into the booth across from the woman.

Debbie chewed her gum and stared at Joan. "I have to say that I was very surprised that you called me. I can't imagine what we have to talk about."

"I think we only have one thing in common," Joan said as she sloughed off her coat.

"Brian."

"Yes, Brian."

"Would you like a coffee while we talk?" Debbie asked.

"Um…" Joan hesitated looking around at the diner. She wasn't sure she wanted to touch anything from this place. "Are you having one?"

Debbie nodded and signaled Kiki to bring them each a coffee. "It's actually very good coffee," Debbie felt compelled to say.

"Oh, yes."

"So what did you want to talk about?" Debbie asked as Kiki filled their cups.

"I … I want some information," Joan said hesitantly as she fixed her coffee and took a sip. It was surprisingly good.

"About Brian," Debbie said.

Joan looked at Debbie. For all her appearance to the contrary this woman was no dummy. She would have to be careful how she presented this to Debbie. She knew the woman seemed to genuinely care about her son. Maybe she could use that. "My son doesn't talk to me unless he has to," Joan began. "There's so much about his life I don't know. I thought maybe you could fill in some of the gaps."

Debbie looked quizzically at Joan. "Why now?"

Joan prayed that Debbie hadn't heard about the lawsuits yet. If she hadn't she would be more likely to spill the information Joan needed. "My daughter seems to be making some major changes in her life. She and Brian are getting very close, but they're shutting me out." Joan blinked like she was holding back tears.

"And you don't want to be shut out?"

"Of course not. Why would you ask that?"

Debbie chose her words carefully. "Brian doesn't seem to think you want to know anything about his life. He thinks you don't approve." Debbie wanted to say that Brian thought she hated him, but she held that back. She wanted to know what Joan was after, and maybe she could improve things between mother and son.

"I don't like his lifestyle, but he's still my son."

"So what can I help you with?"

"Who are these people, the Andersons, who were at the art gallery?"

"You know about the Kinney show?" Debbie asked in surprise.

"Yes, I know," Joan replied trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "Who are they? The man looks so much like Brian."

Debbie swallowed hard. How could she answer that question? "Shouldn't you be talking to Brian or Claire about this?"

"They won't talk to me. They tell me nothing. They treat me like a burden, a pariah, and all I want is to be a part in their lives."

Debbie had known there was a mother in there somewhere. Her heart melted a little at Joan's words. "I don't want to upset you," Debbie said before revealing anything.

"Not knowing what's going on in my own family is more upsetting than anything else. Please tell me," Joan begged and reached out to touch Debbie's hand.

"All right, but you didn't hear any of this from me." 

Joan nodded in understanding. She could hardly believe it was this easy. She was about to confirm or clarify everything she had overheard at the art gala. 

Debbie took a sip of her coffee and cleared her throat. "John Anderson, the one who looks like Brian, is Jacks' son with Claire Anderson."

"Oh," Joan said knowing that she had suspected exactly that but not enjoying having her suspicions verified. "I thought maybe it was something like that. So he's … illegitimate."

Debbie snorted. "He's forty years old and a great guy. What difference does it make where he came from?"

"Of course, I'm sorry. I was just surprised. So Jack must have known this woman before he knew me."

Debbie nodded. "Jack never knew about John."

Joan frowned. "Never?" The bloody Kinneys had so many secrets.

"Never. Claire never told him."

"Do you know this Claire?" Joan asked.

"We've met several times. She's very nice."

"Oh," Joan said. She could just imagine what Debbie would think of as nice. A woman with an illegitimate son was hardly Joan's idea of nice.

"Claire and John live on a farm near Harrisburg. They have a good life there. John's an architect, and they help support 'the farm' which is a summer facility for troubled youth. That's where all the money from the auction of the Kinney paintings is going."

'No it's not,' Joan thought and tried to keep the smile from her face. "It sounds like a very worthy cause." 

"It is. You know," Debbie said thoughtfully, "if you want to meet Claire I could arrange it. We've been to some barbecues at her house. It's a great place. Brian even built a treehouse for Gus," Debbie babbled in her enthusiasm to include Joan and help her make peace with Brian.

"Gus?" Joan asked.

"Yes, Gus, Brian's son, he's such a sweet little boy."

"Brian's son?" Joan asked in horror. "How can Brian have a son?"

Debbie realized that she had just said too much. She had assumed Joan knew about Gus, but apparently she didn't. Fuck! Brian would kill her. "Just forget that I said that," Debbie said hastily.

"Forget! Forget that I have a grandson that I know nothing about! I don't think so." Joan stood and grabbed her coat from the booth. "I think I've heard enough." She stomped out of the diner.

Debbie looked after her and shook her head. She better let Brian know what she had done. He would have a fit. Shit! She should have known better than to talk to that woman.

Joan made it to her car before she started to shake. She had a grandson that she knew nothing about. She remembered seeing Brian with that little boy outside the art gallery. She wondered if that was Gus. How could they keep that from her? The child had to be at least three years old. She felt her blood start to boil. They did hate her. They shut her out of their lives. They told her nothing and made her look like a fool in front of people like Debbie Novotny who seemed to know everything about her family. Oh, Brian was going to pay. And Claire, and this other Claire, whoever the hell she was! They would all pay. She would make certain of that.

An hour later she was ushered into her lawyer's office. Seymour Gottlieb looked at his latest meal ticket with concern. Her face was flushed and she looked almost apoplectic. He wondered what had happened.

"Mrs. Kinney," he said in his best smarmy voice, "what can I do for you?"

Joan glared at him trying to get her temper under control. She didn't want to sound like a screaming banshee even if that was exactly what she felt like doing. "Could I have a glass of water?" she asked hoping that would calm her nerves and settle her stomach. What she really wanted was a glass of wine or a shot of whiskey.

Seymour stood and poured her a glass of water at the credenza. He presented it to her with his best manners.

"Thank you," she said as she took a gulp and then another.

"You seem upset."

"I am," Joan stated abruptly. "I've just found out some extremely important information."

"About the case?" Seymour asked sitting up all attention now that he knew she had actual business with him. Sometimes these old biddies just wanted an ear to chew on about all the things that were wrong with their lives. Maybe she did have some information that was important to the case, something that would guarantee that they could claim the Kinney paintings.

"Yes," Joan said leaning forward. "Those Andersons that I told you about, I've verified who they are."

"You have? I hope you haven't tipped our hand," Seymour cautioned.

"I wouldn't do that," Joan said indignantly.

"So what did you find out?"

"John Anderson is Jack's illegitimate son. Jack must have gotten Claire Anderson pregnant before he came to Pittsburgh. Jack never knew that he had another son."

"That might explain some of the Kinney connection and why the Andersons had the paintings. They must be living on Kinney property."

"Oh yes, I hadn't thought of that."

"That could mean that they are living on your property. You might be able to get the farm as well as the paintings," Seymour said almost rubbing his hands with glee.

"Oh, oh my, I'm not sure I want to take away their home. I just want what's rightfully mine."

"And it sounds like the farm may be rightfully yours."

"I … I don't know. It doesn't seem very Christian to take away their home."

"You never know how these things might play out. In order to get the paintings we might have to prove that you are the true heir to the farm."

"I see," Joan said thoughtfully. She sat up straight in her chair. "Do whatever you have to do … and do it immediately. I want them all to pay."

Seymour looked at Joan. She seemed slightly psycho, but she could provide a big payday for him. "Did something else happen today?"

"I found out … I found out that my son has a child that he never told me about. He has kept my grandson away from me for at least three years." Joan dabbed at her eyes.

'Fuck me!' Seymour thought. 'These Kinneys are a fucked up lot.' He handed Joan another tissue. "I'll get right on it. I should be able to have the papers served in a couple of days. I had already started drawing them up."

"That's good. I agree that we should go after everything we can get."

"I'm pleased to hear you say that. I think that's the right decision."

"Could I ask you something else," Joan said now that they had settled that.

"Of course, Mrs. Kinney.

"Does my son have the right to prevent me from seeing my grandchild?"

"I'm not a family lawyer, but I would tend to think that you should be allowed to see your grandson."

"Could I force him to let me?"

"Would you have to force him? Couldn't you just ask?"

"You don't know my son."

"No, I don't," Seymour said but he knew Joan and he could almost understand why her children didn't want her near their kids. 

"I'll have to force him to let me see them."

"If you say so."

"Could you recommend a lawyer that might help me with that?"

"I could, but don't you think you have enough to deal with, with the paintings, and custody of your other grandsons?"

"But this little boy is three years old and I have never seen him until a few days ago."

"That's too bad. Speak to my secretary on the way out and she will give you the card of a good family lawyer. I would talk to the lawyer, but maybe not press the issue until we get these other cases settled."

"Thank you, Mr. Gottlieb. I don't know what I would do without you."

"I'm happy to help in any way that I can." 'And for the right fee,' he thought to himself. 'A most excellent fee.'

When Joan walked out of the lawyer's office she was much calmer. She read the card the secretary had given her. She would call this person, but first she needed to go home and have a stiff drink.


	7. Joan vs. The State of Liberty

"Hey, Brian, the buzzer, dinner must be here!"

"Buzz him up, I gotta get my wallet." Justin hit the buzzer then opened the door a little as he heard the elevator start up. He was getting out the dishes when Justin heard the door slide open.

"Hey, who do you think you are?!" Justin yelled, thinking it was the delivery boy barging in.

"I think I’m your partner’s brother and where the fuck is he?" John furiously yelled back.

"John, what’s wrong?" Brian asked coming down the steps when he heard the commotion.

"What’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s fucking wrong?" John was so angry that his fists were clenched, ready to punch someone out. Brian had a good idea who that someone might be.

"Justin, take my wallet and meet the kid downstairs; my brother and I are going to have a chat."

"Brian, I’m staying." Justin said, taking a few steps closer to protect Brian.

In a low calm voice, Brian instructed Justin to stay where he was. "Justin, it’ll be fine, just do as I say." Justin reluctantly walked out of the loft but kept the door open.

"John, what happened?"

"You know what happened. She found out. That bitch of a mother of yours found out who we are and we’ve been served papers. She wants all the money that went to the farm. If she doesn’t get the money then she’ll take our house and all the land. Brian, my mother is devastated. She wanted to come here and try to reason with Joan but I talked her out of it. I came instead. Maybe, I, maybe, shit! I don’t know what to do."

"John, I have a lawyer who’s looking into Jack’s will. And Justin made another discovery."

"What kind of discovery?"

"It seems that JABK had an idea that he was going to have to leave the country so he could stay with Patrick. He had a will drawn stating that the farm and property go only to his first born male heirs. That meant his son Brian, then Aidan, then Jack, then you. Joan can’t touch any of it."

"But I’m, you know."

"I know. Then it would be me and I already signed it over to your mother."

"God, Brian. I’ve never seen my mother so upset. We had a family meeting last night with Bobby, Steve and Bill. It’s only right that they know."

"Listen, I gave my lawyer the letters that Patience wrote to Jack. If we can find Kinney’s will it could settle everything."

"Bobby’s coming home this weekend. We’ll tear the place apart."

"Okay. If I can swing it, Justin and I will come up and help. I’ll speak with Mel, she’s our lawyer. We’ll think of something. You want a beer?"

"Yeah, I could use it."

"You got it. And where the hell is Justin?"

"Right here. You two done shouting?"

"I wasn’t shouting; John was."

"I...oh hell, I’m sorry."

"It’s okay, Joan can try the patience of a saint."

"Well, I’m sorry anyway. I apologize, Justin; I didn’t mean to frighten you."

"Yeah, well, remind me never to make you angry. Come on, there’s enough food to feed a small army. You can help us read through more of Kinney’s journal. Maybe we can find out where he hid his will."

"That’s the least I can do."

The three of them sat in the living room to have dinner. While they were eating Justin printed out more of the journal. With three pairs of eyes, maybe they’d be able to crack the mystery of the hidden will. 

Several hours later, they were no closer to finding out where the will could possibly be hidden. They were certain that Kinney didn’t take it with him to South America and that Martha knew where he hid it.

"This is getting us nowhere," John said feeling frustrated and his eyes hurt from reading the old script. "How did you and mom read those letters? This is like torture."

"He has young eyes," Brian quipped.

"Young eyes, my ass. I’m beat. Can I crash here tonight? I have a client to see just outside of the city."

"Hey big bro, mi loft, tu loft. I’ll get you some blankets. Do you need clothes for the morning? We’re about the same size. You can borrow anything you want."

"Thanks, I always keep an overnight bag in the car just in case. My job keeps me on the road a lot. I’ll go down and get it."

John went down to get his bag and to make sure his car was secure. As he turned to go back in the lobby, he nearly bumped into a petite woman toting a briefcase.

"Hey, watch it, Asshole!"

"What?"

"Shit, you’re not Brian."

"No, I’m not."

"You look so much like him."

"I know. I’m going up. Is he expecting you?"

"Not really but he called this morning about another will so I thought I’d drop by. I was in the neighborhood. I’m Melanie Marcus."

"John Anderson." John slid the loft door open and barked out, "Hey, look who I found lurking outside."

"Another Kinney asshole," Melanie snarked. Then her eyes grew wide as the brothers approached her at full height with the same smirk on their faces.

"Holy fuckin’ shit! I could be looking at twins. I need to sit down." Melanie dropped her briefcase then plopped onto a dining room chair.

"Don’t worry, Mel, you’ll get used to it," Justin told her.

"Melanie, why are you here?" Brian asked. 

"I wanted to talk to you about Kinney’s will. If we can find it, it will solve everything. I tried Harrisburg. There may have been a record of it at one time but there was a flood. A lot of the old records were destroyed. If you have the will hidden somewhere, we need to find it."

"Fuck!" Three voices rang out together. Melanie nodded

*******************

"Brian, Debbie’s here and she seems upset. I think you better see her."

"Okay, Cynthia. Send her in and can you bring us some coffee?"

"Sure...right this way Debbie."

"Thank you, honey. Such a sweet girl and pretty too. Brian, can’t you hook her up with anyone?"

"Deb, you didn’t come here to discuss my assistant’s love life. Now why are you here? You’re all right, aren’t you, Mikey...?"

"No, Kiddo. Everyone’s fine, for now. Brian, I think I did something really stupid and I have to tell you about it but please don’t start screaming at me until after I finish. Okay?"

"Debbie, how bad can it be?"

"Real bad." Debbie proceeded to tell Brian about the conversation she had with Joan and how Joan stormed off out of the diner. She also told him about how Joan had paid the art gallery a visit the morning of the closing gala. Then she told Brian that Joan saw Gus at the gallery just before he picked them all up.

After her story, Debbie closed her eyes and waited for Mount Kinney to blow his stack.

"Cynthia." Brian called into the intercom.

"Yes, Bri."

"Forget the coffee."

"Okay."

Brian opened the bottom drawer to his desk and pulled out a bottle of JB and two glasses. He poured about two fingers worth and downed it in a second. He then poured another two fingers worth in each glass and passed one to Debbie. The two stared at each other for about half a second then downed the shots.

"Fucking hell, Debbie. We’ve all been served papers."

"Papers? What kind of papers?" Debbie shrieked. Brian got up and paced while he described the events of the past two weeks since the close of the show.

"First, the bitch served my sister with papers trying to get custody of the spawn. Then I got served cause she wants the money from the sale of the Kinney paintings. And then Claire and John got served cause she wants the farm and the land. My sister is having a nervous breakdown; she can’t stop crying. Her boys are panicking. John nearly punched my lights out and his mother is devastated. Justin feels he needs to do something so he has his nose glued to a computer screen all day trying to find Kinney’s lost will. Oh, there’s a lost will leaving everything to Kinney’s male heirs, only male heirs. It would solve everything except we can’t find the will. And I actually hired Melanie, thank you very much. Did I leave anything out?"

"Shit, Brian!"

"You can say that again."

"Shit. I’m sorry; I guess I really blew it, didn’t I?"

"No, I don’t think so, not really. Somehow good old Joanie is finding out things. You said she was at the art gallery that morning of the closing show?"

"Yeah, that nice handsome priest of hers brought her."

"Father Tom? Hmm, maybe I’ll pay the dear father a visit."

"Brian, he’s a man of the cloth, you be nice to him."

"Don’t worry Debbie; I know just how to handle that man."

"I don’t think I want to know. Brian, I’m really sorry I fucked things up for all of you. I would never do anything to hurt any of you."

"I know that and I know this wasn’t easy for you to come here. Thank you for telling me."

"You know I love you, Kiddo," Debbie said as she got up to leave.

Walking Debbie to the door, Brian hugged her. "Awe Maw, I love you too." He gave her a kiss on the cheek and Debbie gave him one back. Rubbing her lipstick off Brian’s cheek, she gave him a soft smack then left.

"Cynthia!"

"Yes, boss."

"Can you hold down the fort for a while? I have some errands to run."

 

"Sure thing and is there anything I can do?"

"No, yes, just pray that Justin can solve another mystery."

*******************

"Brian?"

"Father Tom."

"What brings you here?"

"My mother."

"Ah. You and she attempting to reconcile?"

"Not exactly." Brian informed the good father of what transpired since the ending of the art show. Needless to say, Father Tom was shocked that Joan would try to take Claire’s children away and that she was planning on suing for the money that went to the Farm. Father Tom assured Brian of his cooperation, if Joan came to him for any advice he would advise her to drop the suits and leave well enough alone. Father Tom also informed Brian that he had escorted Joan to the gallery that morning at her request.

"Brian, if I had known the outcome of that visit I would have never done it."

"You didn’t know. No one knew. Maybe this is all my fault. I should have told her about Gus but at the time I just thought of myself as a sperm donor. When I signed away my rights to Gus’ mothers, I just stayed out of the way. Now that I’ve become more involved in Gus’ life I just want to protect him. He doesn’t need to grow up the way that I did. Lindsay, his mother, is a good person. She’s my best friend except for Justin and Mikey. I can’t think of a better mother for Gus."

"Brian, I can’t break any confidences that are told to me but I promise, if Joan asks me for any advice about this I will try to guide her to the right path. Away from you and your family."

"Thank you. I appreciate that. You know, if you didn’t wear that collar..."

"I know about your one time only rule, Kinney. Besides, there’s a certain blond young man who may have something to say about that. Now, get your ass out of my church," Father Tom said in jest. And then in all sincerity, "Brian, I’ll help in any way I can. Your mother is a lonely, bitter woman. She firmly believes that whatever she’s doing, she’s doing for the best. Maybe you and Claire can find some way to reach out to her."

"I don’t think I can do that but then I didn’t think I could be a dad or a partner or build a treehouse."

"He works in mysterious ways, Brian."

"Amen to that."

******************

On his drive back to Kinnetik, Brian passed the park. He saw Lindsay with Gus and pulled over to park the car. Just down the block, Joan was also parked watching Lindsay and Gus.

"Daddy!" Gus ran over to Brian, jumping up and down.

"Sonny Boy!" Brian swooped down to pick up the child and then gave Lindsay a kiss. 

"Lindz, I have to tell you what’s going on." Brian filled Lindsay in on what was happening.

"Brian, I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

"I don’t know. Just keep an eye on Gus, I mean more than you already do. I get the feeling that Joan’s been sneaking around and spying on us. Shit, I get the chills just thinking about it."

"You don’t think she was at the gallery that night, do you?"

"A couple of weeks ago I could have sworn, Joan would never go near Liberty Avenue, but now I’ve learned she’s been there at least twice in the past two weeks. I don’t know, Lindz."

"Daddy?"

"What Gus?"

"Is that mean lady making you sad?"

"Don’t worry about that lady, Gus."

"Daddy, I don’t want you to be sad."

"How can I be sad when I have you and your mommy and Justin to protect me?"

"I promise Daddy, I’ll ‘patect’ you."

"Thank you Gus. I know you will." 

As Gus gave his daddy a ‘patective’ hug, Joan scowled. ‘Sinners, all of them.’ She thought. Then she drove off.

Later that night Brian needed some of Justin’s ‘patection.’ 

They took a long leisurely shower. Brian adjusted the water temperature and spray to a warm gentle soothing mist. He lathered his boy with a soft apple scented body wash. Rubbing his hardness against Justin’s ass, Justin began to moan.

"Brian, fuck me." They kissed, tongues dueling for dominance, their hard cocks aching for release. Brian pushed Justin up against the glass, sheathed his cock and then drove home. Brian held Justin’s waist tight as Justin desperately hung on to the slippery glass. Brian angled himself to rack his dick across Justin’s sweet spot. The two came within minutes of one another. The cooling water served to cool their sweating bodies. They quickly rinsed off then went to bed.

Before round two, Brian told Justin about Debbie’s visit, his visit to Father Tom and meeting Lindsay and Gus in the park. He also told Justin about his suspicions about Joan spying. 

"Brian, do you really think she’s spying on us?"

"It’s not like she doesn’t have anything better to do besides worshipping the grape. Just try to keep an eye out for her."

"Okay. I read some more of the journal today. A lot of it was kind of boring. But he did a couple of dick doodles, I mean real dick doodles, of Patrick. I felt funny seeing them."

"Justin, you’ve seen hundreds of dicks. How can a hundred year old sketch embarrass you?"

"Because he loved Patrick, all of Patrick. And he was discovering his sexuality."

"You mean his HOMOsexuality."

"Maybe. He hinted that the will was in a safe place. A place that represented his heart. I wish I knew what he meant."

"Enough thinking about JABK. I want you to think about this Kinney and this Kinney’s dick needs some serious attention."

"Does it now?"

"Yes it does. Wouldn’t want it to feel neglected now, would you?"

"No, we couldn’t have that."

"So, what are you going to do about it, Taylor?"

"I’ll show you, Kinney." And Justin did.


	8. Joan vs. The State of Liberty

Claire opened the door apprehensively. It was Ms Renforth from the child welfare agency. She was there to investigate the allegations that Joan Kinney had made about her daughter in seeking custody of her grandchildren. Claire knew the woman would be judging her, judging them as a family, and she didn’t know whether she was ready for that. They had made progress, but they weren't there yet, and she wondered if this woman would figure that out, and it would cost her her kids.

"Please come in, Ms Renforth," Claire said. 

Claire looked around. The house was immaculate. She and the boys had spent hours polishing and scrubbing. Even the fussy Joan would have trouble finding fault with Claire's housekeeping.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Claire asked.

"That would be lovely. We can chat while we drink it."

Claire led the way to the kitchen and put the kettle on. They sat at the kitchen table while Ms Renforth filled out the preliminary paperwork. By the time they had their mugs of tea the worker was ready to get down to the nitty gritty.

"So why do you think your mother wants to take your children away from you?"

Claire looked at the woman gauging how much she thought she could say. "There are many ways to answer that question."

"Such as?"

"She thinks the boys are out of control. She's delusional about how she could help them. She hates that we're getting our lives together and leaving her behind."

"Could you explain that last one?"

"I'm a single mother and my ex-husband is less than helpful or supportive. Until recently the boys were getting wilder and wilder. They wouldn't listen to me. They lied and stole. I couldn't seem to stop them."

"Is that still the case?"

"Not since a few months ago."

"What happened?"

"I went to my brother and begged him to help me."

"Is this the brother that John accused of molesting him?"

"Yes," Claire admitted, "and I believed his accusations, I'm ashamed to say."

"But your brother helped you anyway?"

"Yes, yes he did. Brian is a strange man but he has a heart that's … phenomenal. He got the boys into a camp for troubled children and got me counseling with them too. We've been going to counseling here in Pittsburgh ever since. Brian even comes with us sometimes."

"Brian must be a very understanding man."

"I never thought I would say so, but he is. He surprised all of us, and maybe himself most of all."

"This is the brother that's gay, that your mother wants to keep your children away from?"

"I only have one brother. My … mother thinks homosexuality is a sin. She thinks Brian will burn in Hell, and that he's trying to pull the boys down with him."

Ms Renforth's eyebrows went up. "I see."

Claire wondered what it was that Ms Renforth thought she saw. "Does that answer your question?"

"For now. I would like you to sign this form so that I can talk to the counselor that you're seeing." Claire nodded and picked up a pen. "I'd like to see the boys now."

"Um … sure," Claire said as she signed her name. "I should warn you that the boys are far from perfect, but they're so much better than they used to be. We've come so far. I hope you won't undo it all by taking them away from me." Claire felt tears building behind her eyes.

"That remains to be seen," Ms Renforth said carefully not wanting to give false hope or promise anything that might not come about.

"I'll call them down."

Claire went to the stairs and called the boys' names. They both knew how important this meeting was. They were supposed to be on their best behavior.

Ms Renforth introduced herself and asked the boys some basic questions. Then she inquired about school. John made a face.

"You don't like school?" Ms Renforth asked.

"No," John replied.

"Why not?"

"What's to like about it. It's boring."

"I see." Claire winced when the social worker said that. She was obviously thinking that the boys were doing poorly in school. "Are you passing your classes?"

"Yes."

Her eyebrows went up again. "What kind of grades are you getting?"

"Much better this year," John said. "I have a C average."

"And what did you have last year?"

"I … I," John hesitated and looked at his mother pleadingly.

"Tell the truth, John," Claire said.

"I almost failed. They put me on probation."

"And you're doing okay now?"

"I guess."

"I'll check into that," Ms Renforth said making a note on her pad. John grimaced. "What about you, Peter? Do you like school?"

"Not too much, but I like it better this year."

"Why is that?"

"Mom helps me with my homework and Justin is teaching me to draw."

"Justin?"

"Uncle Brian's partner. He's a really good artist. He thinks I have talent," Peter said proudly.

"Um, that's good. Thank you, Peter."

"Can we go now?" John asked itching to get away from this woman.

"One more question. How would you feel about living with your grandmother?"

John's eyes opened wide. His mouth moved as if to speak and then he blurted out, "No fucking way!" and ran from the room.

Ms Renforth looked shocked but didn't say anything for a minute. "What about you, Peter?"

"I … I want to stay here with Mom. I don't want to live with Gran. Can I go now?"

Ms Renforth nodded and Peter made a beeline for the stairs. Claire watched him run to his room and wondered how many more times he would be able to do that.

"I'm sorry about John's language," Claire said as the social worker packed up all her papers.

"I've heard worse," Ms Renforth said icily.

"When … when will you know what's going to happen?"

"I'll be in touch. There are other people to talk to first."

"Um … sure."

"Good day," Ms Renforth said as Claire closed the door behind her.

Claire leaned against the door and the tears started to fall. She had no idea what Ms Renforth must think of them, but she was pretty sure they hadn't exactly impressed her.

"Boys," she called wiping her eyes. "Come give your mother a hug. She needs one … bad."

*****************

It was approaching Thanksgiving and Ms. Renforth’s investigations were anything but what she expected. She did expect that the Kinney family would be unusual but not this unusual. The matriarch was a church going woman who kept to herself. She had no close friends. Her priest thought well of her, but Ms. Renforth got the impression that two pre-teen boys would not do well in Joan Kinney’s charge.

Ms. Renforth interviewed the boys’ teachers, guidance counselors and principal. They all agreed that whatever happened over the summer was nothing short of a miracle. The boys started the school years with a better attitude. Homework assignments were completed and their class participation had improved. If there was anything amiss at home, it certainly wasn’t apparent to the school, just the opposite it seemed.

The investigator also spoke with their counselor. Actually she knew their counselor. As part of her job, Ms. Renforth frequently recommended family counseling and this particular counselor was one of her top five. Karen was in her mid thirties and had seen it all. She was good with kids and empathetic with parents. She had a wonderful reputation with families. All sorts of families, traditional and not so traditional. She was one of the few counselors that gay and lesbian families could trust. It wasn’t surprising that Claire, her boys and Brian responded well to her.

Brian Kinney had also given Ms. Renforth his permission to speak with Karen. She could tell that he wasn’t very happy about anyone digging into his past but it was to his credit that he did it for his sister and his nephews. Whatever problems Brian may have had with his nephews, he had become their greatest ally and supporter.

Ms. Renforth even contacted Steve and Bill from the Farm. The Farm was closed up for the winter but Karen was in contact with Bill. Bill was happy to send his reports to Ms. Renforth.

She had to conclude that even though the boys were at one time out of control, they and their mother were forming a close family bond. It would be a disservice to break them up and would probably cause more harm than good.

Concluding her investigations a day before Thanksgiving, Ms. Renforth would not be able to present her report to the court until the Monday after the holiday. She knew it was going to be a long anxious time for the family but it couldn’t be helped. She just hoped that they could hold on for the next few days.

 

Joan Kinney picked up the phone. She looked at the receiver and then set it back in the cradle. She had been waiting for days to get her invitation from Claire for Thanksgiving dinner. None had come. 

She had figured that Claire would be angry at her for seeking custody of the boys, but she always spent Thanksgiving at her daughter's house. She wanted to see her grandsons and begin making it clear to them what life would be like when she got custody of them. She would try to mend fences with Claire, maybe hold out an olive branch about visitation. All she wanted was what was best for her family. At least that was what she had convinced herself that she was doing.

Once again she reached for the phone. She had to find out what was going on. Maybe she could invite Claire and the boys to her house. She could still get a turkey and the fixings, but she needed to call now.

She dialed the familiar number. 

"Hello," Claire said.

"Claire, it's your mother."

"I don't want to talk to you," Claire said about to hang up.

"Wait, Claire, it's Thanksgiving."

"I'm well aware that it's Thanksgiving," Claire said icily.

"I called to see if we are going to spend it together … like we always do."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Claire blurted out.

"Claire, language. Why would you think I'm kidding?"

"You're unbelievable, Mother!"

"Claire, what are you talking about?"

"You petition the courts to take my children away from me and then you want to celebrate Thanksgiving with me? You're nuts!"

"Don't speak to me that way, young lady."

"You can't intimidate me anymore, Mother. I've had enough of it, and no, you will not be spending Thanksgiving with us. If I never see you again, it will be too soon!" Claire slammed the receiver against the base.

Joan yanked the phone away from her ear as the noise reverberated through her head. "Ungrateful wretch!" Joan said aloud. "I'm just trying to do what's best for those boys."

Joan made her way to the cupboard and took out the bottle of whiskey that she had stashed there. She poured a drink and sipped at it. She couldn't believe how Claire had treated her. She was trying to help them and they didn't appreciate anything she was doing. Claire had been downright rude. That must come from hanging around Brian all this time. He was the most insolent and ungrateful creature she had ever met.

All their troubles seemed to stem from Brian. Jack had not wanted the child and after he came along the family was never the same. Jack had doted on Claire, but he had no time or interest in Brian. The boy had become more and more belligerent and arrogant as he grew older. He thought he was better than the rest of the family. He couldn't wait to escape from the house. And he was smart. Too smart! He had earned scholarships and bursaries so that he could go to university. He wanted to be nothing like any of the rest of them. He thought he was too good for them.

And Brian was successful, but at what cost? He rejected the church and the word of God, made fun of it whenever he could. He lived a loathsome lifestyle, and seemed proud of it. Now he had sucked Claire and her children into his evil ways.

Joan had always been able to rely on Claire for help and companionship. She could always go to Claire's if she felt lonely. She went there for special occasions. She could count on the fingers of one hand the times she had been to Brian's home. It was so cold and modern and impersonal, just like Brian. Claire's house was always a mess, but she could always go there and feel somewhat comfortable. Now she couldn't even do that. But Claire would have to come to her once she had the boys.

Joan frowned. That Renforth woman had been there a few days ago to interview her. She had seemed to like the house and of course it was spotless. However, the woman had seemed skeptical that Joan would be able to handle two boys, one of them entering his teenage years. Joan didn't know whether she had been able to convince the woman that she could handle them or not.

But why was she worrying about that? She would have made a much better impression than Claire. She had told the woman that she would make sure that the boys went to church each Sunday. She had shown her the list of church related activities that she would enroll the boys in. That had to impress Ms Renforth.

Joan detested anyone who called themselves Ms. What did that stupid word mean? Was she married or not? If she wasn't, what did she know about families? Why should she be making the decision about where her grandchildren would live? Well, technically she didn't make that decision, the court did. But her recommendations carried a lot of weight. Joan wished she felt more confident about what Ms Renforth would recommend. Surely she would find Joan a more desirable guardian for the boys than Claire.

When she got custody then she would be the one in control. Claire would have to come to her. If Claire wanted Thanksgiving with the boys she would have to come to Joan's house; she would have to ask Joan's permission. Joan couldn't help herself from smiling. Claire would be at her house all the time to see the boys, and maybe Brian would be too. Joan would be generous with visitation. She could afford to be generous when she had all that money and the boys.

Joan poured another drink. She pulled a pad of paper over and started making a list of things she needed to get for tomorrow. She better leave soon if she wanted to get anything from the market. It would be picked over. Maybe she would get one of those stuffed turkey breasts that she had seen. They weren't too big, but were big enough that if Claire and the boys decided to come over, she would be able to feed them.

She wondered if Claire would relent. She had sounded so angry on the phone. It was supposed to be a time of giving thanks after all. What did Joan have to give thanks for? Not much this year. She would probably be alone, but it wouldn't be the first time. Next year she would hold all the cards and everyone would have to come to her.

Joan stood up a little shaky on her feet. She downed the rest of her drink and went to get her coat. She wondered what Brian and that boy, Justin, would be doing for Thanksgiving. She had no idea how homosexuals celebrated Thanksgiving or Christmas or anything else. They probably had some sort of weird or depraved rituals that they followed. She shuddered.

She was disappointed about Claire's reaction. She didn't want to spend Thanksgiving alone, but sometimes you had to make sacrifices for the bigger good. She would be fine. She would get her turkey breast and have a nice meal alone. Her children wouldn't be any happier than she was, of that she was sure.

And next year! Next year she would have everything. Ah, next year!


	9. Joan vs. The State of Liberty

"Brian, aren’t you ready yet? The traffic is going to be murder and we have all those cars to lead."

"I’m coming, I’m coming. You gonna lead me around by the balls or should I say ball, all weekend long?"

"Look, everyone is in a funk. Your sister thinks she’s going to lose the boys. Debbie thinks she’s ruined your family. Claire and John think that any minute someone is going to force them out of their house. And you think you’re going to have to come up with 1.8 million dollars to give to Joan. Now we are taking everyone to the Andersons for this weekend and we are going to be thankful for what we do have until it kills us. And we’re going to try to have a good time. Do I make myself clear?!"

"As a crystal dick!"

"Fine!"

"Fine! Justin?"

"What?!"

"Do you thing we’ll find the will?"

"I printed out the whole journal and we have the copy of the Kinney letters. With all those people in the house, if a copy still exists, we’ll find it. But Brian, I am worried about Melanie coming. Are you sure that was a good idea inviting her? She and Lindz, it’s still tense."

"I know but she wanted to get more information from Claire and John. And who knows, maybe the farm will work another miracle. Plus Lindsay misses Jenny Rebecca. And Mel misses Gus; it’ll be good family time for them. And holy shit, I sound like a lesbian. Let’s get out of here, Sunshine."

****************

Justin was right about everyone being in a funk. Claire and the boys were quiet the whole ride to the farm. Except for a few sniffles and tears, no one said a word. The caravan of cars made it to Claire’s within a few hours and after a very subdued hugfest, the sleeping arrangements were all confirmed. Claire and the boys would take the cottage but the boys would camp out in the living room with Gus. They promised Brian to take good care of him and behave. The boys gave up their room to Lindsay and Mel and the baby. Lindz and Mel promised to behave too.

Debbie and Carl took the guest room. Jennifer bunked with Claire. Mikey, Ben and Hunter, along with Emmett and Ted, rearranged the living room and dining room so they could camp out on the floor. John blew up the air mattress for Brian and Justin and they shared John and Bobby’s room. It was a very tight fit. 

Brian had offered to arrange for motel rooms but everyone wanted to stay close to offer support. The principal players were trying to put up a brave front but it wasn’t working. Brian began to sulk. 

"Brian?"

"Hmm?"

"Dinner’s ready. Come in and sit down."

"Claire, I’m not..."

"We all cooked and it looks wonderful. You will sit and eat with us." Claire Anderson would not take no for an answer.

"Yes, ma’am." Brian got up from the stairs in the hall and joined the family for dinner. Claire had him sit at one end of the table while John sat at the head of the table. Jack’s boys would lead the family’s first Thanksgiving dinner. John stood up to address the family.

"I realize that this isn’t exactly how we wanted to spend Thanksgiving. I thought we’d get together but I had imagined it would be a lot noisier. I guess none of us are in the partying mood. But I think we all have to agree that we do have a lot to be thankful for. I know I’m very thankful that I have a wonderfully kind and understanding mother. I found a brother and through him, a whole new life and extended family. And I found my soul mate. So even if it all goes down the tubes tomorrow, I am very grateful for what I have."

The whole room was quiet for a moment, then one by one each of the family shared why they were thankful. 

The younger Claire tried to express her thanks to Claire and to Brian for embracing her and her boys and giving them the chance to learn how to be a real family, but the thought of the boys leaving her made the words difficult to say. She thanked her sons for sticking with her and she promised to keep them all together.

When it came time for Brian to say his piece, he couldn’t. He was too wracked with guilt. Justin reached for his arm and gently rubbed it. Brian stood up and faced his family.

"I have a lot to be thankful for, so much that I can’t list it all. I am very thankful to each and everyone in this room, even you, Theodore." The mood lightened a little and a few people chuckled. "I’m even thankful for my bratty nephews and before you say it Johnny, I am still a fag." Brian and his nephew stuck their tongues out at each other. "I am very thankful to Gus and Lindsay for letting me into their lives."

"You’re welcome, Daddy!" Gus said proudly.

"And I guess I am the most thankful for a certain blond, annoyingly tenacious, twink twat, who came in under the wire and never left. So, before I thoroughly embarrass myself by sounding even more like a lesbian, let’s eat. And Happy Thanksgiving to everyone."

"Happy Thanksgiving!" The family answered back and then they started to pass around the dishes.

The mood was definitely picking up as they passed around the carved slices of turkey and all the fixings. The whole family had pitched in with the cooking and the meal looked and smelled heavenly.

Halfway through dinner, a cell phone started to ring and everyone reached for their phones.

"Sorry, it’s mine. Damn, I missed it. I still don’t know how to work this thing," the younger Claire stated, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Mommy, since when do you have a cell phone?" Peter asked.

"Since your Uncle Brian insisted that I carry one of these things and he programmed in all of his numbers and your school number and Karen’s number. But I still don’t know how to get my messages," Claire answered and handed the phone over to Brian. Brian punched in the access code and then the simple password he had set up for Claire. Then he handed the phone back to Claire for her to listen.

Claire listened carefully then burst out in tears, sobbing into her napkin. Brian jumped up and ran to her side.

"What is it?"

"That was Ms. Renforth, you know, the investigator. I gave her my number just in case. She called to say that she’ll be turning in her report on Monday. But she wanted me, us, to know that she was recommending that we, us, me and the boys stay together. She sees no reason to break us up!" 

The boys whooped and hollered. And the family cheered. It was a small victory in the grand scheme of things but a victory nonetheless and something worth giving thanks for. Appetites were increasing and more food was passed around the table.

Since no one was in a rush for dessert. The family pitched in to help with the clean up. Bobby volunteered to read more of the journal as well as several other members of the family. They were each struck by how eloquently Kinney wrote and by his love for Patrick. Bobby had to put down the pages and wipe the tears out of his eyes several times.

"Watch it Bobby, Justin’s allergies are very contagious," Brian warned. 

The aroma of fresh brewed coffee filled the air. Claire, Debbie and Jennifer set up the dining room table as a dessert buffet so that everyone could help themselves. Brian watched Justin and Hunter vie for slabs of Debbie’s apple pie as the younger children went for the elder Claire’s cookies. Brian poured himself a mug of coffee and went to sit on the stairs in the hall. He leaned back and stared at the remaining Kinney paintings that were hanging on the wall. The painting of the mansion completed the painting of the farmhouse as they hung side by side. It kind of reminded him of himself and Justin.

Most would think that Brian would be the mansion and Justin the farmhouse. Brian knew it was the opposite. While Justin didn’t grow up rich, he did grow up with the elite side of Pittsburgh. Brian grew up in the slums. It was his need to better himself and to get away from Jack and Joan that made him work like a dog to become financially well off.  
Justin found him there, still staring at the paintings.

"Brian, what are you doing out here by yourself?"

"Just needed a little quiet. They look good together."

"What looks good together?"

"The paintings, the mansion and the farmhouse. Different but they belong together."

"Like us?"

"Yeah. Justin, did Sidney Bloom clean the painting of the mansion?"

"No, I didn’t ask him. He was busy with the paintings that Claire had originally given him to appraise so I didn’t want to bother him. Besides, I had a friend from PIFA do it. He’s learning to be a conservator so he did it for the expense and I bought him some supplies. Why?"

"I’m not sure. Did he take it out of the frame?"

"I don’t think so. He said it really was in pretty good shape. It was very dusty and dirty with nicotine but it cleaned up pretty easy."

"Huh. Justin read it to me again, the part about Patrick and Martha. What they meant to Kinney."

"Okay...’My dearest wife, I wish I had the power of words to explain what you mean to me and the part that Patrick plays in my life. You are my heart and he is my soul.’"

"Justin, I think that’s it."

"What’s it?"

"Kinney’s heart. Martha was his heart."

"Yeah, so."

"Don’t you know?"

"Know what?"

"Home is where the heart is!" Brian got up and went to the wall. He took the painting of the mansion down and brought it into the dining room.

"Hey, I need help. Clear me a space."

"Brian, what the hell are you doing?" Debbie asked.

"Saving our asses, I hope. Hey big bro, do have something to pry off these fasteners?"

"Coming right up." John took out a pair of pliers and joined Brian at the table. He gently removed a few of the old nails that held the backing to the frame. John gingerly pried the backing up while Brian slipped his fingers under.

"Well?" Justin asked bouncing on his toes.

"Hold on, I think, yes!" Brian removed a thick packet of parchment wrapped by a leather cord.

The whole family held their collective breaths as Brian turned the packet over to Mel. 

She quickly got her glasses and carefully untied the cord.

"This is it. It’s the will. That fuckin’ Kinney luck."

"Stop telling me how lucky I am and read the damn thing. Does it say what Kinney wrote in his journal?" Brian snarked.

"This isn’t easy to read, Asshole." Mel snarked right back.

"Melanie!" Debbie and Lindsay admonished. There were too many young ears about. 

Mel shrugged and began to scan the contents of the will.

"I, John Aidan Brian Kinney, being of sound mind....yada, yada, yada...hereby bequeath, yada, yada, yada."

"Melanie!" This time the whole family shouted at her.

"What?"

"Mel, enough with the yadas. Get to the good stuff." John impatiently requested.

Melanie sat near a lamp and flipped through the pages of the will.

"Here it is....’My house, my lands, outbuildings and property herewithin as set forth by the surveyor in the sovereign state of Pennsylvania shall henceforth be settled upon the first born legitimate male heir of my line. From father to son. In the event that no male heir is produced, the aforementioned estate will be held in trust for the next nearest male heir and entailed upon him. The earnings from the estate will be stipend to my wife Martha until my son attains majority. An annual annuity shall be paid to her and to our daughter Martha until their deaths. In time of hardship or if it comes to pass that the male heir does not desire to live upon the lands, he may entrust this estate to another male heir.’ Wow."

"Wow? That’s all you can say is wow?" Justin stated. "What the hell does all that gobbledygook mean?"

"It means I fucked up again," Brian said softly.

"How? You’re the first born legitimate male heir. Joan can’t touch it."

"But I signed the deed over to Claire. I broke the stipulations of the will. I didn’t know it had to go to a male heir."

"Brian, you didn’t break the will," Claire said gently.

"What do you mean?" John and Brian said in unison.

"When I had the lawyer draw up the new deed I put your name on it, Jackie. I’m not getting any younger. I had to make sure that if anything happened to me, the house and the land and the farm would be looked after. You’re my son. Do you really think I could leave you out?"

"Oh mother!" John cried and hugged his mother. Brian felt drained and he slumped onto the sofa.

Melanie coughed and began to speak in her attorney voice. "Claire I will need a copy of your new deed and the old one if you have it. With this and the deeds, I don’t think old Joan will stand a snowball's chance in hell in court."

A new more emotional hugfest ensued and a fresh pot of coffee was put on the stove. All of a sudden everyone got hungry again.

 

Joan heaved a huge sigh as she took off her coat. She opened the oven door and looked at the almost cooked turkey breast. She would put the potatoes and carrots on in a minute. But first she needed a drink 

With her whiskey bottle safely in hand she sat down at the kitchen table. She had just returned from Claire's house. She had waited all day for her daughter to relent and call her for Thanksgiving dinner. No word had come. Finally Joan had decided to call. There had been no answer. She couldn't help but wonder if they all were there just refusing to answer the phone because it was her. So she had got in the car and driven over there. There was no sign of anyone at the house. She had wondered where Claire could be.

Giving in to her need to know she had driven to the loft and tried to get in. No one answered the buzzer so she had waited for someone to enter the building and had caught the door before it closed. At Brian's loft no one answered the door, but she had listened and all had been silence. Where were her children on such an important day?

Then it had dawned on her. She had driven to Debbie Novotny's house. She knew she still lived in the same place. The last time she had been there was almost twenty years ago, another time that she had been trying to find Brian. But no one was home there either. So she had returned to her own house.

She took another drink and stared off into space. The house was so silent like it always was these days, like it had been ever since Jack died. A stray tear rolled down her face. She hardened her heart and swiped it away.

Next year would be different. She would have the boys and that would make all the difference. And the money, of course.

She took another drink to fortify herself. She wondered where everyone could be. They would likely be together, but where? She couldn't imagine where they had got to, and then an unconscionable thought occurred to her. What if they were all together with those Anderson people? They had been very chummy at the gallery. She knew they had a farm, soon to be her farm, somewhere near Harrisburg. The lawyer had told her that.

That must be it. They had all gone to the farm to spend Thanksgiving there. They had chosen this Claire Anderson over her. They were all there having a good time and probably laughing at her. Well, they would pay for that. They would pay.

She took a large drink. How could they do that? She glared at the stove. It smelled like the turkey breast needed some water added. Maybe in a minute after she drank this glass. Maybe she would just drink her Thanksgiving dinner and leave it at that. Nobody cared what she did.

But soon they would all pay!


	10. Joan vs. The State of Liberty

Joan's eyelids fluttered. Some annoying noise was forcing her to wake up. What was wrong? She tried to raise her head but it was so heavy. She flung her arm out and heard something rattle around and then fall with a crash to the floor. She forced her eyes open and heard the insistent beeping growing louder as she woke up. With extreme effort she forced her head up. She could smell smoke.

Where was she? She managed to focus enough to look around. She was at the kitchen table and the smoke was coming from the oven. It must be the turkey. She had fallen asleep and the turkey was burning. She heaved herself up from the table and stumbled towards the stove. The dials swam in front of her eyes and she grasped at the handle to the oven to keep from falling. She could feel the heat. Her hand reached out and turned the dial. She was pretty sure that she had turned off the oven. She reached up and opened the window above the sink. That would get rid of the smoke.

She turned on the tap in the sink and splashed some water on her face. That was better. She stood up straight. The amount of smoke coming from the oven seemed to be lessening. Now she needed to stop that incessant beeping. She felt a little steadier since the water on her face. She reached for the broom that leaned in the corner and using the handle as a prod she tried to jab the smoke detector that was making that awful beeping sound. After several tries the noise ceased.

When the beeping stopped she breathed a sigh of relief. One thing down and several more to take care of. It was dark in the kitchen except for the light over the stove. She flicked the light switch and saw the pieces of the glass that she had knocked off the table. She used the broom to sweep them into the corner where she normally kept the broom. She'd put them in the trash later. 

She debated taking the turkey breast out of the oven but knew that would spread more smoke around. Now that the stove was turned off it could cool down in there. She'd worry about it tomorrow.

The clock on the back of the stove read 9:42. She must have fallen asleep a long time ago. She looked at the table and saw that she still had almost a third of the bottle of whiskey left. She grabbed a glass from the cupboard, the bottle from the table, and carefully made her way upstairs. Bed seemed like the best place to be. She wasn't hungry and another drink before she fell asleep would hit the spot.

"So much for Thanksgiving!" she muttered as she climbed into the bed.

 

Brian and Justin lay in their sleeping bags on the floor of John's room. John and Bobby were already asleep as far as they could tell. Both couples had enjoyed a Thanksgiving fuck.

"Aren't you asleep yet?" Brian asked in the darkness.

"No," Justin replied.

"What's wrong?"

"I was thinking."

"Oh oh!"

"Briiiaaan."

"Sorry, Sunshine, what were you thinking about? Please tell me."

"If you're going to be like that, forget it."

"Don't get huffy," Brian whispered.

"I am not huffy."

"Then tell me what you're thinking about."

"I was thinking about the will. You were so clever to think of the heart and soul thing. We would never have found it otherwise."

"I am clever, aren't I?" Brian teased.

"Asshole! But yes you are."

"Is that it?"

"What if we hadn't found it?"

"I … I don't want to think about that."

"That's what I mean. Everything would be so screwed up without that will."

"Courtesy of dear old mom."

"I wonder what she did for Thanksgiving. Claire said she always used to spend it at her house. I wonder if she was all alone."

"I hope she was. That's what she deserves."

"Nobody deserves to be alone, not even you."

"I used to think I did, thanks to the excellent training in worthlessness a la Jack and Joan Kinney. And then you came along."

"I wonder what would happen if Joan met someone who liked her and thought she was worth something."

"Like a new beau?"

"Something like that. Or a friend. I wonder what Joan would think of Claire Anderson."

"Christ, Justin, don't wish that on Claire."

"I know, I know, but Claire has worked her magic on all of us. I just wondered…"

"Would you tell the gerbil in that head of yours that it's time for a rest?"

"I'll try but he isn't very well trained."

"And don't I know it."

"Sorry."

"Come here," Brian said softly.

Justin rolled against him. His arms closed around the most important person in his life. Their even breathing soothed each other and soon they were asleep locked in each others' arms. 

"Thank God," John said.

"They sure talk a lot," Bobby observed.

"Yeah. Come here," John said and Bobby slid into his partner's embrace. Now they could sleep too. "Happy Thanksgiving," John whispered. Bobby grunted as he fell into a deep sleep.

\-----

Not having anywhere to be, the whole family took advantage of the holiday and slept late on Friday. One by one they each got up and began to help Claire, who was the first up, with breakfast. The day promised to be crisp but the sky was clear and the sunshine remained strong. After breakfast, the clan broke up into smaller groups to leisurely spend the day.

The last to make an appearance were John, Brian and their partners. The air mattress that Brian and Justin were sleeping on proved to be very comfortable and they were unwilling to leave it. Around 10 AM Brian and John had been awakened by certain young men making a meal of them, enjoying a high protein breakfast. After Justin and Bobby were finished dining, John and Brian had repaid the favor. The brothers relaxed, snuggling in the warm blankets with their warm partners.

"Mmm, Sunshine, that’s the best way to wake up in the morning," Brian whispered into Justin’s hair.

"I agree," John confirmed from atop his bed. "I guess we should join the others."

"I guess so, but I’d rather stay here for a while longer," Bobby commented.

"Brian, what happens now?" Justin asked.

"With what?"

"The lawsuits."

"We leave that to Melanie. First, we wait for Claire’s appointment with the court. It’ll probably take time for the investigator to file her report and for Claire to get the official ruling. Then I imagine Melanie will do her thing with the wills and the deeds. I just hope this will all be cleared up by Christmas. You know how I hate holidays; I don’t think I can take another tense holiday. Not like this one."

"Brian, you weren’t the only one that was tense."

"I realize that, Justin. It was hell for Claire and the boys. And I won't mention how John and his mother must have felt when they thought they were going to lose the farm. Now we stand a fighting chance against Joan. I can’t help feel responsible for all of this."

"Bri, how are you responsible? If you ask me, it’s Joan who’s responsible for all of this. I just can’t believe she put you all through it."

"I can, Sunshine. She’s a vindictive old woman and she’s made a lot of people suffer."

"Including you."

"Yeah. Let’s not talk about Joan anymore. I'd rather have a second helping of my favorite breakfast."

"And what might that be?"

"Sunshine."

"And how would you like that served?"

"Au naturel," Brian helped himself to a little taste of Sunshine.

"I thought those two would never shut up," Bobby complained.

"They do seem to talk a lot when they’re in bed."

"Maybe it’s foreplay."

"Could be. Bobby?"

"Hmm?"

"Mind if I, uh, you know."

"Help yourself."

"Oh yeah."

By the time anyone saw John, Brian, Bobby and Justin it was time for lunch.

****************

On Saturday, the Liberty Avenue contingent had packed up and said their goodbyes to Claire and John. Melanie especially wanted to get back so she could begin to prepare her countersuits. Only Brian and Justin remained with the Andersons. They spent the remainder of the holiday counting their blessings and appreciating the quiet.

*****************

Even though things were looking up for the Kinney family, the tension didn’t completely dissipate. Apparently the judge who was to receive the findings from Ms. Renforth had developed a Thanksgiving bug. For two weeks Brian suffered through Claire’s constant phone calls. Everywhere he went he was met with a message or voicemail. He was beginning to regret giving her that cell phone. Brian began to screen his calls. He didn’t want to say anything foolish and how many times could he tell Claire that everything would be all right. His relationship with Claire and her boys had never been better; he didn’t want to ruin that. He avoided her calls as much as possible.

His private line rang again and this time he decided to pick it up.

"Claire! I’m really busy..."

"Brian! Brian, I know and I’m sorry I’ve been bugging you but I had to call and let you know. It’s all over."

"What’s all over?"

"Mother’s petition. It’s over. Done. No one is taking away the boys."

"How? I thought the judge was out sick."

"He was, still is. Ms. Renforth asked for another judge. She thought it was so unfair that we had to wait until the judge came back. She knew the ruling would be in our favor so she insisted that the case be assigned to another judge. The new judge read the report and the depositions from Karen and Steve and Bill and from the boys’ school. She said she found nothing that would indicate that there was anything wrong with how the boys were being raised. In fact, she praised us because we asked for help before things really got out of hand.

"Brian, Mother was there. She was devastated and angry. I thought she was going to explode. I’ve never seen her that angry. She started to scream at the judge, saying that you were going to lead the boys to sin. I was ready to yell back but Melanie stopped me. The judge told mother that families come in all shapes, sizes and sexual orientations. She said that the boys weren’t hurt by their exposure to your lifestyle, just the opposite, they were learning tolerance and acceptance and that was a very valuable lesson. She hoped that mother would learn it too.

"Brian, thank you."

"Thank me? Why?"

"Because, I’m learning too. I missed having a brother for all those years. We could have had fun together, been a real family together. I’m sorry I let mom and dad get in our way. I’ve never been so happy in my whole life since you and your crazy family became my family. Thank you."

"Claire, don’t start crying again. Shit, Justin really knows how to spread his allergies around." Just then Justin walked into Brian’s office and stuck his tongue out at Brian.   
"Look, I’ll wrap things up early. You get your spawn ready and we’ll take you to dinner. Some place nice, so make sure those brats wash behind their ears. Okay?"

"Sounds like a plan to me."

"Later, Claire."

"Bye."

"How much did you hear?"

"Not much. Only about dinner and my allergies. What’s up?" 

Brian got up from his desk and swept Justin off his feet, swinging him around the office.  
"It’s over, at least with the petition against Claire. The investigator made the court reassign the case to another judge. Case closed. The spawn and my sister are safe. And I feel like celebrating."

"Brian! That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time. Things are looking up."

"That’s not the only thing that’s up around here."

"So, let’s go home and we can take care of those things before we pick up Claire and the boys."

"Now that sounds like a very good plan to me!"

******************

"Fucking two bit shyster!" Melanie cursed as she slammed down the phone.

"What happened?" Lindsay asked. The farm had worked another minor miracle; Lindsay and Melanie were spending time together. It was by no means perfect but they were beginning to remember why they had fallen in love in the first place.

"That so-called lawyer Joan Kinney hired. He’s been avoiding my calls. He’s either out of town or with a client. I think he senses that he’s going to lose so he’s spending Joan’s money before he earns it. I know him. He’s unreliable, he promises you anything, then when he loses he hits the client with a big fee claiming expenses. Joan Kinney is in for a big surprise."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I’ll give him two more days to get back to me. If I don’t hear from him, I’ll serve him and Joan with a countersuit. That will get his attention."

 

Joan Kinney sat in the waiting room of Seymour Gottlieb's office. She had been waiting for almost an hour. He had never made her wait like this before. It was definitely not a good sign.

This had been about the worst couple of weeks of her life. After Thanksgiving, in fact including Thanksgiving, everything had been a horrible mess. Her family had disappeared on Thanksgiving Day leaving her all alone. She had drunk too much, she could admit that, but it was to hide the huge loneliness that surrounded her. Then she had fallen asleep and burned the turkey. It was so badly burnt in fact that she had had to throw away her favorite roasting pan. There was no saving it.

And then she had been summoned to court to hear the findings of the investigator in her custody case against Claire. She had been totally humiliated by the whole fiasco. She had had such high hopes. She knew she could straighten those boys out. They needed a strong hand and some moral fiber in their lives. Instead she had had to sit there and listen to what Ms Renforth had reported about all the good things Claire was doing to improve the lives of her boys. She heard reports from people she had never heard of saying they had helped the boys and that the family seemed to be on the right track. And there wasn't one word, not one, about all the things she wanted to do for her grandsons. 

And that stupid feminist judge had the nerve to say that being around Brian, her openly homosexual son, would be good for the boys. It would make them more tolerant or some such drivel. She knew that it would simply lead them into a life of depravity. And she was forced to sit there and listen to it all.

But she had told them at the end! Even though they wouldn't allow her to be on the stand and speak her piece, she had told them. In no uncertain terms, she had told them. When the judge had dismissed her petition she had stood proudly in that court and told the judge that she had made a horrible mistake. She had said that the judge was condemning those boys to a life of sin and godlessness. She knew she had begun shouting soon after she started speaking but she couldn't stop herself. It had all come pouring out.

Pouring out, until the bailiff had grabbed her arm and practically dragged her from the courtroom. She had tried to resist but he was too strong. He even told her, after she calmed down a little, that if he hadn't taken her out of the courtroom, the judge would have charged her with contempt. She had replied that she held nothing but contempt for a court that could make such a ruling.

When she had calmed down enough, the bailiff said she could go home. Claire had not even come to see if she was all right. Her only family didn't care a whit about what happened to her. She shook her head at the thought. But if she got the money from the paintings they would have to show her some respect.

She glanced nervously towards the door leading into Seymour Gottlieb's office. This did not bode well that he was keeping her waiting so long. She had to win her suit for that money. She just had to.

"Mrs. Kinney, Mr. Gottlieb will see you now," the secretary said.

She stood and smoothed the front of her skirt. "About time," she muttered as she went to his door. She realized that no one had come out. Had he deliberately made her wait all that time for nothing? Her heart beat a little faster as she turned the knob. This was not an auspicious beginning.

"Come in, Mrs. Kinney," Mr. Gottlieb said. He appeared to be reading some document and didn't bother to stand. "Have a seat."

She sat in the usual chair while her stomach did somersaults. This was not going well. "Do … do you have some news for me?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm afraid I do."

"Afraid?" Joan asked. This was definitely not good.

"I spoke to the lawyer representing your son in the matter of the paintings."

"And?" Joan asked narrowing her eyes. Mention of Brian often caused her to do that.

"Some new documents have come to light."

"What? What documents?" Joan asked feeling the world start to spin out of control. Dread washed over her.

"It seems that John Aidan Brian Kinney, the artist and original owner of the farm, left a will which has just come to light."

"What does that have to do with my lawsuit?"

"In some ways it supersedes your will."

"How is that possible?"

"The will states that the farm is to go to the first male heir, so that would make Brian the legal owner."

"But he turned it over to that John Anderson person and his mother."

"Correct. But in a sense John Anderson is actually Jack's first male offspring."

Joan made a face. "But Jack left everything to me," Joan protested.

"Everything except that book which contained the deed to the farm. Jack clearly wanted the farm to go to Brian. It is still technically in the family but legally I would have to say the Andersons own it."

"That can't be," Joan gasped. "And the paintings?'

"They were found on the farm. I can't see any way to claim them for you."

"No," Joan moaned. "This can't be so. I … I was counting on those paintings."

'So was I,' Seymour thought. "I'm afraid we don't have a leg to stand on."

"That can't be true. Surely there must be something else you can do."

"I could try some things, but I think they would be pointless and would only add to your already rather substantial bill."

"Bill?" Joan repeated. She hadn't even thought about how much all this was costing. She had counted on getting the money from the paintings to pay for everything.

"I think we've reached the end of the line, so if you'll excuse me…"

Joan stood feeling very shaky all of a sudden. She knew she should leave but she wasn't sure where the door was anymore. She felt Seymour take her arm and direct her steps. He gently shoved her out the door.

"My secretary has your account all tallied," he said as he shut the door behind her.

Joan swallowed and stood staring at the empty office. What was she going to do?

"Mrs. Kinney," the secretary said. "Here's the tabulation of your account. Would you like to settle it now?"

Joan took the paper the secretary handed her. There were several lines, but the figure at the bottom caught her attention. It read $6475.00. She gasped.

"I'll mail it to you," she said hastily folding it and stuffing it in her purse.

She walked out of the office wondering where on earth she was going to get that amount of money.


	11. Joan vs. The State of Liberty

Joan walked out of the bank. She stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and looked at the bank book that she held in her hand. She flipped it open and reconfirmed her worst fears. The balance in her account was $1304.27. That was about what she had expected.

Where was she going to get the rest of the six thousand dollars that she owed Seymour Gottlieb. That shyster lawyer had led her on. He had promised that she would win the lawsuit. She had counted on that money. She had let him run up his bill expecting all the while that it would be paid when she won the suit. But then he had abandoned her at the first thing that went against them. Now she had to try to pay this monstrous bill … somehow.

As Joan drove home she thought about how quickly everything had changed in just a few days. She had been so sure she would get custody of Claire's boys and then get the vast amount of money that those paintings had sold for. Instead she had nothing, she was all alone, her family hated her, and she owed a huge sum of money. She half hoped a bus would careen out of control and crush her and her car. With a start she shook herself realizing that suicide was a sin. She just didn't know what to do.

She walked into the empty house and went directly to the cupboard where she kept the whiskey. There wasn't much left in the bottle but it would help to calm her nerves. She wasn't sure how she would pay for the next bottle. Even if she gave Seymour Gottlieb every penny she had she'd still owe him over five thousand dollars. What could she do?

The whiskey felt warm in her stomach. She realized she was shivering from cold and also from worry. Her house was paid off. Maybe she would have to take out a mortgage on it, or get a loan using it as collateral. The only problem with that was that Jack's pension barely covered her expenses as it was. It had taken her a long time to save that thousand dollars in her account. How would she ever pay off the loan?

Joan laid her head on her arms on the kitchen table. Tears ran down her cheeks and she made no attempt to stop them. This wasn't how her latter years were supposed to be. She wanted her family around her, her grandsons and Claire, even Brian. She hadn't seen him in months.

He used to come visit her every month or so. He would bring flowers which she never appreciated, but at least he came. She wondered if he would ever come to this house again. He probably wouldn't even speak to her after this.

And Claire. Joan used to be able to go to Claire's house. They always agreed in their criticism of Brian and his way of life. Now Claire was all chummy with her brother and Joan was left on her own. Life was so unfair sometimes. What had gone wrong?

She took another small drink from the bottle. She needed to ration what she had left. It was only a few days till Christmas and she would be alone for that too. She let out a long sigh. What was she going to do?

Christmas! The thought rambled through her head. Maybe she could appeal to them because it was Christmas. People were supposed to be nice to each other at Christmas. They were supposed to exhibit good will towards each other. Maybe if she played that card.

She picked up the phone and dialed Claire's number.

"Hello," Claire responded.

"Claire, it's your mother."

"What do you want?" Claire asked. She didn't want to deal with this.

"It's almost Christmas. I was wondering if you'd like to bring the boys here for Christmas dinner or I could come there," Joan said hopefully.

"Are you fucking kidding me? After what you tried to do!"

"Claire, please don’t speak to me like that. You have the boys and I was hoping that we could let bygones be bygones."

"No fucking way! That is never going to happen."

"But Claire…" The line had gone dead. Joan set it down with a sigh.

No Christmas cheer from that source! With a wry smile she decided to call Brian. He probably wouldn't even answer, but maybe it was worth a try. Couldn't be any worse than what Claire had said to her. She dialed Brian's number.

"Kinnetik," Cynthia answered.

"Could I speak to my son, please," Joan asked.

"Mrs. Kinney, I'm not sure he's available."

"I could have predicted that," Joan said with a sigh.

"Hold for a minute and I'll see. Brian," Cynthia said after buzzing his office. "Your mother is on the line."

"Tell her I'm dead and I didn't leave her anything in my will."

"Briian!" Cynthia said with that tone that told him he had crossed the line.

"What?" he demanded.

"It's Christmas and it's your mother."

Brian snorted but knew he would never hear the end of it if he didn't talk to the woman. "Put her on, but this may cost you your Christmas bonus." 

"I'll take my chances," Cynthia said knowing he would never take away her bonus. He was really a very generous man.

Brian waited for the connection. "What do you want, Mother?"

"I … I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas."

"I'm touched. Now if that's all." Brian was about to hang up when he heard a soft choking sound over the line. "Mother, what's wrong? What's going on?"

"You wouldn't care," Joan sobbed. "I'm sorry I bothered you."

"Tell me," Brian barked.

"That lawyer … he … he's charging me over six thousand dollars in legal fees and, and I don't have any way to pay him."

Brian let out a long breath and tried to keep his temper under control. "Six thousand dollars in fees for fucking suing me!"

"Yes, I guess, and for trying to get custody of the boys."

"And you expect me to help you pay that off when you used it to get at me. I don't fucking think so."

"I should have known that would be your reaction," Joan said coldly. "I'm sorry I bothered you. Have a Merry Christmas," she said as an afterthought as she hung up.

"And you too," Brian said to the dead phone line. "You old bat." He slammed the phone back onto the base. Why did she always get to him like this? Now he felt like shit and he had every right to refuse her.

"Cynthia!"

"You bellowed boss."

"Yes, I did. When did it get to be Christmas? Wasn’t I just forced to celebrate Thanksgiving with my very unruly family?"

"Brian Kinney, you can be such an asshole! And we’ve been busy, too busy for you to notice the season. So busy that I’m sure you are going to owe your partner big time for organizing your Christmas dinner plans all by himself."

"Oh fuckin’ hell. How did I get roped into that one?"

"Must have been in one of your weaker moments."

"Yeah, like when Melanie called to tell me Joan dropped the lawsuits. The little shit was all over me like white on rice. I vaguely remember Justin saying something about doing Christmas at the loft. He had my dick in his mouth at the time. I guess he took my grunt as a yes."

"TMI, Brian."

"Sorry, you’re invited, by the way."

"I know, got my invitation and my assignment a week ago."

"Your assignment?"

"Yes. Well, there’s going to be a lot of people there so we each got an assignment."

"Dare I ask what yours is?"

"I suppose I should tell you."

"What is it?"

"You won't like it."

"Spit. It. Out."

"You’re supposed to call your mother and ask her to join us for Christmas dinner."

"Fuck!"

"I told you, you wouldn’t like it."

"The bitch wanted almost 2 million of my money, she has the nerve to ask me to help her pay for her legal fees and you want me to call her and invite her to dinner! Are you out of your fucking mind? No, wait, not you, that little blond twat that I call a partner. This is his idea, isn’t it? Wait till I get my hands on him."

"Brian, I think you better calm down before you burst an artery. Justin wants what you want and that is to have a nice family get together, with all of your family and that includes..."

"My mother. All right, you’ve completed your assignment. I’m not promising anything. Now get the hell out of my office."

"Sure thing, boss."

"Cynthia."

"Yes?"

"Christmas is Sunday this year, correct?"

"Yes."

"Make sure everyone knows that they can take off on Friday. Oh hell, and on Monday too."

"You’re a good man, Brian Kinney."

"Don’t let that get around."

********************

"Justin!" Brian shouted as he opened the loft door.

"Hey Bri."

"Don’t hey Bri, me. What the fuck were you thinking? You want me to ask Joan over for Christmas, after she almost single-handedly destroyed my family!"

"I see Cynthia did her assignment."

"You little twat! How could you involve Cynthia in all of this?"

"Brian, she’s one of your closest confidantes and the least likely you’d kill, so cut the shit. Have you thought about it?"

"Yes, I have and no fucking way. She called me today. She had the nerve to ask me for the money to pay for her attorney fee. Over six fucking thousand dollars!"

"Brian, you need to calm down."

"Calm down! Why is everyone telling me to calm down?"

"Because you’re screaming and turning red. Come with me, I was about to take a shower. I spent the whole day cleaning and shopping. I’m tired and my hand hurts a little."

Brian could see Justin’s exhaustion. This was going to be their first real Christmas together at the loft. Justin wanted everything to be perfect. Claire, John and Bobby were coming to the city. The whole family would be here. Justin had everything organized and each member of the family had his or her assignment. Brian had two assignments. The first one was easy, make sure the liquor and wine cabinets were well stocked and the second, to just be there. Deep down, Justin had some doubts that Brian would be there at all. The whole holiday scene was far too emotional for Brian even after Thanksgiving. At that holiday everyone was so down, they leaned on Brian like always, looked to him to lead the way. This time it was different. Justin felt sure that Brian would disappear. But right now Justin was way too tired to argue. All he wanted was a warm shower and a warm body to hold him. Preferably, Brian’s warm body.

Brian immediately dumped his briefcase and crossed over to his exhausted partner. He led Justin into the bedroom, stripped them both of their clothes then guided him into the bathroom. Brian turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature to suit Justin. Lathering up his boy, Brian gently massaged the tension from Justin’s shoulders and back. He caressed Justin’s rump with the soapy sponge then rinsed away all the bubbles. Brian pushed Justin toward the wall then knelt in front of him, taking in Justin’s cock to the root.

Brian’s hands continued to massage Justin’s ass while his mouth worked his cock. He slipped a finger into Justin’s tight hole and found the bump. Gently tapping the bump and sucking on the head of Justin’s dick, Justin came. Brian swallowed then stood up to steady the wobbly boy. Before the water ran cold, Brian had them both rinsed off, out and wrapped up in thick bath sheets. He led his partner to bed. Wrapping his long body around Justin under the soft duvet, Brian made Justin feel warm, safe and secure.

"What about you?" Justin asked as he snuggled into Brian’s embrace.

"Shh, don’t worry about me. You did a great job on the loft. I’m closing up shop on Friday so you can put me to work and I promise not to complain. And don’t worry, I’ll be here, front and center on Sunday."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Brian, fuck me." 

"Not too tired, little boy?"

"Never too tired for that."  
In spite of Justin’s declaration, Brian didn’t fuck Justin, he made love to the boy, slowly and carefully.

Brian kissed a path down Justin’s face from his forehead to his lips. He sucked on the blond’s lips and his tongue. Brian continued down the boy’s neck and chest to lick at the little pink nipples. Stopping briefly to pay attention to Justin’s navel, Brian continued toward Justin’s cock. Tenderly he kissed the hardening organ then he spread Justin’s legs, bending his knees upward to gain access to Justin’s hole. Brian licked and sucked at Justin’s thighs and groin. Spreading the boy wide, he tongued the pink tight pucker. Justin moaned out loudly, only Brian could make him feel so loved, so wanted. His dripping cock stood proud and he began to pull on it.

"Want you," was all Justin could groan out. Brian quickly donned a condom and added lube. He slipped into the boy’s hot ass, thrusting swiftly. Justin was getting closer to the edge. Before Justin could fall off the precipice, Brian withdrew. Getting another condom, he rolled it onto Justin’s weeping cock. He added a generous daub of lube then impaled himself onto his boy. Both men cried out as Brian lowered himself on to Justin’s cock. Brian rode his boy until they both came. Leaning on his elbows, Brian kissed Justin before he removed himself and the condom. Brian got up off the bed to get a damp cloth to clean them both up.

When done Brian crawled in the blankets and again Justin snuggled into his man.  
Justin, kissing Brian’s neck, whispered, "Thank you," then, "I love you." Brian gently squeezed Justin, kissed the boy’s head and the lovers drifted to sleep.

 

Christmas Day the whole family sat around the loft chatting and gushing over presents. Molly and Gus and Hunter seemed to be the most enamored of their gifts. Jenny Rebecca was still too young to really understand what was going on.

They were all waiting for dinner. The huge turkey was sizzling in its pan almost done, and the vegetables were cooking on top of the stove. The loft smelled so good Brian was sure he saw a few of them wipe the drool off their lips.

"Is it ready yet?" Justin asked his mother who was giving the turkey one more baste.

"I'm going to take it out in a few minutes and let it stand before we carve it. The vegetables should be done by then. Would you check that there's enough cutlery and napkins for everybody?"

Justin nodded and moved to the other side of the bar. He quickly counted, noting that there was more than enough of everything for everybody. He glanced around the room looking at everyone, seeing people laughing and happy, watching Gus rush around showing everybody his new miniature Corvette just like his daddy's. Justin smiled and saw Brian standing at the windows looking down at the street. He made his way over.

"What's so interesting out there?" he asked. "It's not snowing, is it?"

Brian turned and raised an eyebrow. He pulled Justin closer and pointed. Justin followed the direction and took in a quick breath. "Fuck! What's she doing down there?" he whispered.

"She's been pacing back and forth for about five minutes. Looks like she's trying to decide if she wants to call up here."

"Do you think she will?"

Brian shook his head. "I have no idea. I'm surprised she got this far."

"What are you going to do?" Justin knew what he would like Brian to do but he also knew he better not suggest it.

"I guess I'll watch and see if she freezes into a pillar of salt or if the loony wagon comes and carts her away."

"Brian! It is Christmas."

"I know."

"Well, you better decide soon. Dinner's almost ready," Justin said and then he left his partner to make his own choice.

Justin watched Brian frown and start towards the loft door. He hesitated and looked around. Finally he went up to the bedroom and did something Justin couldn't see. After a minute he came back out and grabbed Gus' hand. Brian leaned down to the little boy and whispered in his ear. Gus nodded and Brian grabbed his jacket and Gus' coat and exited the loft.

"Where the fuck are they going?" Debbie demanded.

"He'll be back in a minute, Deb," Justin assured her.

"He better be. Couldn't he have taken Gus to play in the snow an hour ago, not right when my gravy is fucking perfect?"

"He'll be back," Justin repeated. He found it hard to keep the smile off his face.

Brian put his jacket on and helped Gus with his coat as they rode down in the elevator. Gus still clutched his Corvette in his hand. He loved his car just like daddy's.

Brian opened the front door of the loft building and he and Gus stepped out. "Mother," he said to the woman who had been pacing his sidewalk.

"Brian," she replied with her usual cold tone.

"What are you doing out here?" Brian asked.

"I thought I might come up and wish you a Merry Christmas, but I didn't want to intrude."

"You wouldn't be intruding," Brian said softly. "We're getting ready for dinner. There's plenty if you'd like to join us."

"I wouldn't want to interfere," Joan said coldly. She had been invited, but knew she would not be welcome.

"There's lots of people up there. You know Debbie and Michael. You've met Lindsay, and … this is your grandson, Gus."

"Oh my," Joan replied clutching her coat across her chest. "Hello, Gus," she said trying to smile but tears were blurring her vision.

"Are you my Grandma too?" Gus asked.

"I guess so," Joan said. "Do you have other grandmas?"

"Grandma Jenn and Grandma Debbie and Grandma Claire and Grandma Nan…"

"That's an awful lot of grandmas," Joan said feeling that she obviously wasn't one of them. "I better go."

"Mother," Brian said. "Here, take this." He handed her a small folded piece of paper that he had taken out of his pocket.

"What is it?"

Brian merely stuck his tongue in his cheek and waited. Slowly Joan unfolded the paper.

"Can I show Grandma my Corvette?" Gus asked. He held it out for Joan to see and admire.

Her eyes were glued to the paper. "Oh Brian, I didn't think you would help me. I didn't know what I was going to do." She clutched the check for six thousand dollars to her chest.

"Grandma, see my car," Gus said frowning. This Grandma didn't seem to be the least bit interested in his Corvette. His other Grandmas had been. "Cold, daddy," he said wanting to go back inside to the people who liked his Corvette. He didn't understand this woman who stayed out in the cold.

"In a minute, Gus," Brian said. "Are you sure you don't want to come up? There's plenty of food."

"No, no, you go back with your … family. And if Claire and the boys are there, wish them a Merry Christmas from me." Joan turned and started walking towards her car.

"I will," Brian said. "Let's go, Gus."

"What's the matter with that lady?" Gus asked looking back over his shoulder as Joan climbed into her car.

"That's the million dollar question, Gus. I wish I knew."

They watched Joan drive off in her car. "Merry Christmas, Mom," Brian whispered as he took Gus' hand and they went back to the warmth of family and friends, to the taste of good food and drink, and to a feeling of peace and well being. Brian couldn't help but imagine what Joan would find at the end of her trip home. But that was her choice. Still holding Gus' hand Brian quietly shut the loft door behind them, and looked around at the smiling, happy people. Joan didn't know what she was missing, and he supposed she never would.


End file.
